


what hides in the twilight

by Morte_Sangriz



Series: HxH Spirited Away AU [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirits, Canon-Typical Violence, Doesn't follow canon for either HxH or Spirited Away, Gen, Separation Anxiety, Sharing a Body, Sibling Love, Spirited Away! AU, hxhbb, hxhbb19, mentioned misgendering, mentioned transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morte_Sangriz/pseuds/Morte_Sangriz
Summary: It's a warning as old as time, repeated over and over until the danger no longer exists in the words. Do not travel the forest at twilight, it is said,for in the gloom of purgatory between light and dark, day and night, life and death- anyone that strays too close is stolen away by spirits.Killua has heard the rumors and the warnings, though he doesn't believe in them, especially now the forest is the perfect place to hide. He'll stay hidden until sunrise, he tells himself, then he can go back home and complain about all of this to Alluka.The problem is that the world that awaits him once he leaves the trees behind is different than the one he knows, and as he stumbles into an empty town, a massive bathhouse where his house used to be, he's not sure how he'll manage to get to his sister again. Now, stuck in an entirely different world and without a clue as to how to get home- Killua thinks that maybe there was some truth to those warnings, after all, and that maybe, next time, he should listen.





	1. lost

**Author's Note:**

> So like, I'm awful at pacing and it feels like this needed like 20k to flow as smoothly as I want it, but if I don't post this now, I never will so- here ya go!
> 
> Update: It's been a good amount of time and I just realized I forgot to link the art and playlist I received for this fic, so I'm doing it now lol ;-; (Sorry it took so long to actually do.)
> 
> Shoutout to _theHuntyHunties_ and _Slewi_ on Tumblr for taking the time to create something for this fic!  
> [Here's the art! ](https://slewi.tumblr.com/post/185998367767/this-is-a-bit-late-but-my-piece-for-hxhbb19)
> 
>  
> 
> [And here's the playlist! ](https://thehuntyhunties.tumblr.com/post/185752338457/do-not-travel-the-forest-at-twilight-it-is-said)
> 
>  
> 
> AGAIN, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

**i.**

In the bleeding glow of the setting sun, he runs. His footsteps are silent as he moves through the trees, towering trunks cresting over his head, leaves wide and full, blocking his view of the sky as he flees. The autumn air is cold inside his lungs, but his skin burns hot, movement keeping him warm.

He's been on the move for what feels like hours, but can't possibly be that long. The sun hasn't fully set yet and he left the mansion just as it began to dip below the line of the horizon. He doesn't know if he's been followed this far out. He’s put every damn thing seared into his brain to use; every despicable, ridiculous, method of escaping he could implement on the fly. His family, while failing at literally everything else that isn't murder or being assholes, have always had _quite_ efficient ways to make the lessons stick. He's hoping that it's enough to avoid capture and punishment.

It _has_ to be, otherwise, he's majorly screwed.

_Shit,_ he thinks, eyes darting around him as if he'll catch sight of the way out of this mess. His life at this moment is just that: _a mess._ In fact, it might just be the _absolute_ worst mess he's ever made in his short, boring, unfulfilling twelve-years of life.

It's much worse than like, calling Milluki a fat shit when their mother is around, or switching Illumi's conditioner with hair thinner and blaming Kalluto for it. Or when he glues rhinestones to the butler's uniforms when they're not looking so they walk around like that all day. They're always funny stories to tell even after he's put through whatever punishment is thought up by his mother. Especially since his father chuckles at some of the absurd pranks he pulls, his grandfather sighs but mutters something about there being worse hobbies, with a not so discreet glance at Milluki tapping away at a handheld game at the dinner table. Illumi always tells him that it's unbecoming behavior for an assassin, but doesn't do anything to stop it.

What Killua has done now warrants much heavier punishment than the things he usually gets in trouble for. Illumi-level punishment. The kind of punishment that speeds his heart up in his chest and makes his breathing come short, fast, _frantic_ . Illumi's punishments are always for serious infractions. For lessons that he doesn't believe have sunk in quite as deep as he would like them to be; for mistakes that will never be repeated, never, _ever_ again. Beneath the skin and muscle and nerve, etched into the very marrow of his bones, they are a part of him that he cannot forget.

(There are some things that can not be erased, not from the flesh, not from the mind, and especially not the soul.)

The blood is still splattered on him, splotches of bright red and dulled rust painting his once white shirt and part of his shorts. The fabric clings to his skin with the tackiness of wet blood, although there are sections where it has dried stiffly and flakes off when the materials crease. The light of the sky is still bright enough for him to see just how dark his hands have been stained with his mother's blood.

Not that she's dead, or at least _wasn't_ last time he saw her, shrieking and holding her face as blood gushed out from between her fingers. In another circumstance, in another life, she might have been proud at his ruthlessness to even his own blood- but here, it just serves as a violent reminder that he has chosen a different path than the one set before him. He burns with what Mother had asked of him, the thing she had told him only he could do before she leaned in close, manicured hand on his face, painted fingernails curling in like talons into the line of his jaw.

_You have to kill it,_ she said, _There's no other person that can do it, it has to be you._ Her words echo inside his mind, looping around themselves like a snake devouring itself. A part of him is still reeling with what he's done, with what his instincts urged him to do in the haze of shock, rage, and _betrayal._ Another part of him is stunned that his mother bleeds just as red as everyone else he's killed.

How could she have asked that of him? Out of everything in the world, all the people he's killed, how could she have ordered him to kill his most precious person? How could she think that he would ever raise a hand against Alluka?

Killua’s heart aches at the thought of doing, so even accidentally. He’s always been the one to protect Alluka; since the moment he met her and she smiled at him, bright and soft and loving. Since she tilted her head and shyly asked him, “ _You’re my brother aren’t you? Does that mean we can be friends?”_

He would _never_ hurt his little sister. **_Never_ ** _._

Alluka is better than he could ever be; a kinder, warmer soul- even with the spirit that has latched itself to her since infancy. Not that he’s ever physically seen it, only caught glimpses from the corner of his eyes, of something dark and slick, pale white face like bones that have been left to bleach in the sun, curling around Alluka’s shoulders like a shawl. Nanika hasn’t hurt Alluka either, only protected her, a guardian angel made of ink that kills to defend, that wields magic that has no place in this world like a shield.

That’s about the extent of his experiences with spirits- curse giving, wish-granting Nanika. Even though the only times Killua has spoken to Nanika have been through Alluka’s mouth, the spirit taking over his sister’s body with Alluka’s consent, of course, and asking for favors and gifts- like a spiritual magpie, hoarding trinkets of flesh and blood instead glittering ones.

The sunset sets the sky aflame above him, filling the clearing he has wandered into with a cascade of shifting hues overhead. Colors coalesce into something vibrant along the line of the horizon, painting the clouds that stretch away from it in pastel pink and orange, in burning shades of red and yellow, the spaces between them filled to the brim with violet and lilac, navy and cerulean. It’s like all of the sky is saturated with color.

Killua isn’t one to appreciate the sunset, not like Alluka, who beams at anything bright and colorful and likes basking in the warmth of the sun before it fully fades. But there’s something about the sky at this moment that he can’t tear his eyes away from. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen it look this way: otherworldly and breathtaking, drawing him until it’s the only thing reflected in the blue of his eyes.

It’s hypnotizing.

His feet move, stepping in front of the other, deeper into the embrace of the forest. His face is tilted heavenward, hair lightly bouncing with each step. The trees sway as a strong breeze races through the clearing, the leaves rustling against each other almost soundlessly. The forest grows quiet around him, not even the singing of crickets or chattering of animals breaking through the stilled silence.  

Waist high statues are dotted before him, unexplained figures chiseled with humanoid faces- humanoid, but not _quite_ human. He didn’t even know there were statues like this on their property, to begin with. A part of him shivers as he walks past them, but he brushes it off as the night's chill and continues on.

He’s in a part of the forest that he hasn’t ever seen before. He wonders if Illumi knows about this place and if he’ll follow him this far out. With luck, he’ll think that Killua left toward the closest airship to leave the country behind. Killua wouldn’t leave like that. Or maybe he would have if not for the reason he left to begin with: his mother, Alluka, and the knife he drove into Mother’s face instead of his sister's back. He tries not to think of the wide-eyed surprise, of the way it was so easy to hurt his mother like she was just another target, as just another body of someone that got in the way.

The trees here are massive. Their trunks are wider than Killua is long, roots bulging from the earth like the dirt isn’t enough to contain them. He approaches the slanted form of a weeping willow, the smallest tree he can see, although out of place in the forest. Willows like this don’t grow except in damp places, he knows. It’s one of the botany lessons he had to sit through as a child. Weeping willows love water, and while this forest is known for its lush vegetation- he’s never seen a willow here before.

Killua brushes past the draping branches and steps into the area beneath the tree. Its roots are twisted and poke out of the ground, showing a dark opening right underneath the bulk of the trunk. Maybe he can hide out here until the time for him to leave comes. He gives the roots an intent stare before shrugging and taking a seat among them. It’s better than nothing. He’s had to rough it out much worse before.

He can hardly catch sight of the sky from here.

Killua plans on returning later tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest to take Alluka far, far away from here. This is the closest he can hide without being found, where he’ll emerge once the night has settled into darkness. His mind flashes to the whispers of the townspeople that live below the crest of the mountain, of the forest that his family owns but has never truly tamed. Of the part of the forest that not even Mike wanders into, only patrols the edge of with a wary glint in his eyes and lips curled back in an almost snarl.

_The forest is cursed_ , they say, _Never wander there at night or you’ll be spirited away._ He has heard of disappearances, not of the townspeople (they don’t dare wander too close to the Zoldyck mansion, not with Mike and death awaiting them if they do) but of new Butlers straying from their normal patrol to check out the forest as well.

_Sometimes_ , he’s heard one mutter to another, _I can hear music coming from inside the forest but when I go to check it out, every nerve in my body tells me to get away and I can’t go on._

_Oh, you’re one of the lucky one_ , another answered, _most people don’t realize there’s anything wrong until it’s far too late. They go into the forest as the sun is setting and never come back out again. I knew a guy that went missing like that, was just on patrol with me and looked at the forest, asking me if I heard that before taking off. I never saw him again._

At the memory of the words, Killua’s skin erupts into goosebumps.

He has no choice, he has to stay here. It’s only for a little bit. It’s only for a while. None of those stories can be true, otherwise Father would’ve investigated those claims. Right?

The burning sunset glows and falls, slowly, slowly, inch by inch, peeking through the cresting branches of the gnarled trees, through the curtain of the willow leaves- until the fire of the setting sun is contained only in a thin line above the horizon.

“It’s twilight,” he breathes, and something inside his chest gives a sudden, violent lurch _._ Killua gasps, body straining, eyes slamming shut as the night flashes a with a blinding viridescent light. The world spins, and spins, and spins, the sky changes; the roots cradling him feel like hands holding him down, _down_ against the dark earth like they’re dragging him into an open grave and-

 

 

**ii.**

Alluka sighs and stares out the window, watching as the sun sets in the distance, painting the sky a lovely combination of hues. The trees around the mansion are speckled with color, some of the vibrant green leaves shifting into burning orange, soft yellow, and muted brown. Autumn has come and left its chill in the air, and although she’s not allowed to open the windows or leave the mansion grounds, she thinks that she would love the cold, crisp air and the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet.

Alluka longs for outside so much that it aches sometimes, that Nanika will hum and ask her why they don’t just leave it all behind. But Alluka cannot leave without her brother, without Nii-san to go with her because she doesn’t know anything beyond what he tells her- because she cannot imagine a life without him playing with her and laughing with her and caring for her.

She loves spending time with her Nii-san, especially at times like this, when she’s bored and can feel the Butlers watch every move she makes anxiously. Like she’ll snap and do something awful, like she’s no better than a wild animal- with no feelings or thoughts or control. Having Nii-san here would make it easier to ignore her unsubtle followers, he keeps her distracted whenever she feels glum.

Today is one of the days she’s allowed to roam beyond her bedroom, freedom argued by Nii-san on her behalf, won with the condition that she is to be supervised at all times and limited to only a few times a month. It’s the result of the wish Nii-san made to allow her the freedom to step out beyond her sealed bedroom- that he wanted her to be allowed to leave her room and that if anyone refused her the time she had allotted to wander to kill each of their family members until she was allowed out.

It’s no surprise their family had given in to his demands.

She likes these days the most since it means that Nii-san will spend them with her, showing her things he brings from outside and teaching her how to play video games. Nii-san is late to meet her and if she’s not back in her room before her curfew comes, she’ll be in trouble with Mother.

The sun’s already setting though.

Even if Nii-san arrives now, there won’t be a lot of time for them to play.

She puffs out her cheeks. She knows he was home earlier, he smiled at her and promised he’d see her in a bit before he headed towards Mother’s room. Is he still busy with Mother? What could be taking so long?

Alluka tries to stay out of Mother’s way. But if there’s a chance she can find Nii-san near Mother’s quarters, then that’s where she’ll have to go. Her boots make a soft thud on the ground as she hops down from her perch on the windowsill and the Butlers lining the hallway all minutely flinch as she moves closer to them. Scared.

Nii-san finds it funny to see how anxious the Butlers get when she comes within a few feet of them, “It’s their fault,” he likes to say, “For calling you a boy when you’re not. You're my cute little sister, that's all.”

It always makes Alluka happy when Nii-san calls her his cute little sister, for more reasons than one. She thinks Nii-san knows it too since he always goes out of his way to slip it into their conversations.

The Butlers follow her down the hall, quiet and nervous companions on her journey to find Nii-san. Alluka knows that they think not talking to her will prevent Nanika's power from coming out. It won't. But nobody ever really thinks that for real, it just makes them feel better. She’s not going to ask them for anything, either way, there's no need for it.

Nanika is still asleep inside her, humming like the distant buzzing of cicadas, desires sated, at least for now. It’s easy for her to tell when Nanika wants something, or when it’s time for Nanika to wake up- then she lets Nanika take over since it’s not fair if Alluka hogs their body all to herself. It’s not like anyone else expects anything else from her anyway.

The carpet muffles the sound her shoes make on the ground. She’s still sure that she’s still the loudest one that ever goes down these halls, since the Butlers make no sound behind her even though she knows they’re following her- and Nii-san walks like he isn’t bound by the same laws that make her boots thump on the floor. It’s not her fault that everyone around her has super secret training that makes them strong and able to walk as quiet as a mouse.

Alluka hasn’t heard Mother talk to her directly in years, only about her like she isn’t in the room at times, like she’s nothing more than an uninteresting lamp than the child she birthed and then spurned. At this point, Alluka prefers it this way. She’s heard Nii-san tell her about the kind of person Mother is and she’d rather not talk to her if she doesn’t have to.

“What do you mean you can’t find him!?” Mother shrieks, voice reaching a pitch that Alluka hopes to never hear again, she can hear Mother though before she’s even outside her bedroom door. “My precious boy! How could you let him go so easily!?”

“Forgive me, Mother. It seems Kil learned more about evasion that I had thought. He got away before I could capture him.” Illumi-nii says and Alluka freezes, he’s talking about chasing down Nii-san like some sort of _animal._

“He’s always been a gentle child,” Mother spits out as if Nii-san being kind is a burden, something to train out of him at the next opportunity, “Even towards things that don’t deserve that kindness.”

She carefully, silently, steps away from the doorway leading to the bedroom, unwilling to face the what comes with interaction from anyone but her favored brother. Nanika won’t let anyone touch her, won’t let anyone that isn’t Nii-san lay hands on her- but that doesn’t mean that words don’t hurt just as badly, that dark empty eyes don’t tear right through her like she’s made of wet paper.

“He’s being quite stubborn about this, I would have thought his sense of duty would have won out after all this time. What I don’t understand is why I can’t simply kill it for him. He’s too attached to it to be willing to harm it, despite all my warnings and reprimands, and I think he considers it as part of the family.”

“Illumi,” Mother coos, “My darling son, it’s sweet that you want to help Killua with this- but he’s the next head of the family, which means removing the stain of his generation falls to him. Heaven knows I wish I would have never given birth to that _thing_ if only so that Killua wouldn’t have to dirty his hands with its blood. But we can’t do anything but wait for him to come to his senses-”

Alluka stops listening. Her mouth goes dry. Her heart, racing in her chest like a frightened rabbit, gives a pained stutter. _No, it can’t be… can it?_ She doesn’t dare take another step back, doesn’t dare move.

The words hold her still with what feels like grief, like fear, like desolation so crushing that Nanika stirs awake. There is a hum of concern, a buzzing in Alluka’s chest that speaks without words- _sad. hurt. alluka okay?_ Nanika’s buzzing grows louder inside her. It sounds like the angry swarming of hornets, loud, laced with a feeling of danger. Nanika is absorbing the things that Alluka overheard, hearing the same things she did only moments before.

_nanika protect alluka. no one hurt alluka. alluka safe with nanika._

Alluka doesn’t dare reply, holding her breath and fighting back tears. She didn’t know that Mother felt like that, didn’t know that Mother has hated her for her _entire_ life. Mother and Illumi were talking about _her_ . They were talking about telling Killua to kill her and him running away instead and how much they hate her and how _wrong_ they think she is- and Alluka doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to catch her breath when it feels like her life has shattered before her eyes.

“I’ll see where he’s run off to, Mother, don’t worry. I’ll bring him home again.”

Alluka doesn’t have time to flee before Illumi-nii steps through the doorway. She meets his eyes and they’re so- _dark, dark like the living shadows Nanika swallows whole sometimes, like there is nothing, a void, hollow, black hole consuming light-_ cold, chilling the blood in her veins, freezing her in place.

He doesn’t say anything, simply stares at her for a moment, unblinkingly; studying her with detachment, and Alluka feels as if she’s a butterfly pinned to a styrofoam board but still alive, wings pressed flat and forced still, struggling in vain to survive. His long black hair shifts around his face when he cocks his head to the side, the motion like a bird of prey. He doesn’t smile, not that he ever does, but the lack of expression this time makes her stomach churn.

How long has Illumi-nii hated her? How long has he thought about killing her to spare Nii-san the burden of it? How long has Mother wanted her dead? How long has she been living in a cage, waiting for the execution unknowingly, for her would-be-killer to come to her wearing the face of the family she thought she knew? Is this why Nii-san ran? Is this why he left her behind, so he wouldn’t have to face her and hide the fact that their Mother hates her, that there is no one but him and Nanika that loves her?

Alluka’s eyes burn, her lungs are tight. The tears she holds back blur her vision.

“Alluka,” he says, at last, cutting into her rising sorrow with his flat voice, blank-faced and giving away none of his true thoughts. It’s clear to her that he knows what she’s heard, that he simply doesn’t care enough to address the fact she heard her death being discussed like it’s a normal topic of discussion. “It’s time for you to go back to your room now.”

He makes no move to lead her away. He doesn’t need to. At his words the Butlers following her jump into motion, ducking their heads to him respectfully, fearfully, and ushering her from the doorway, down the hall, back underground, back to her room, her cage, her _prison._

_killua gone? promised to play, come soon?_ Nanika asks later and Alluka buries her face into her fluffiest pillow, sobs wracking her shoulders, snot dripping from her nose. “Nii-san left, Nanika. He ran away.”

If he left, does he even love her? If he left, does that mean that it’s only a matter of time before someone enters her room and makes an attempt on her life? Does that mean she’s going to die without seeing the outside one last time? Does this mean no one but Nii-san will want to remember her?

Nanika buzzes in agitation. Nanika is upset that Alluka is upset. Nanika is upset that anyone wants to do Alluka harm. Nanika wants to make them all go away so that Alluka is safe forever.

_killua love alluka. killua come back soon. nanika protect alluka always, always, always. killua come back, killua always come back. no sad, alluka. no more cry._ Nanika says and Alluka knows she’s just upset, that she needs to calm down before telling herself that Nii-san doesn’t love her. But it’s hard to do that when she so upset, when she doesn’t know what to do besides wait.

She just wants Nii-san to come back soon.

 

 

**iii.**

From inside the embrace of the twisted roots, the smooth bark, of the dying willow, Killua opens his eyes to the darkness of the night. There’s a chill in the air that settles on him like a blanket. He’s sure his skin is cold to the touch, not that he can tell, sprawled out like he is. He doesn’t remember ever sleeping so comfortably before, not in a long time. Even his naps with Alluka are tainted by the constant vigilance of the Butlers, who disapprove of his prolonged contact with her but can’t do anything to make him stop.

Out here, it feels like he’s truly alone. With no reason to watch his back, even as he was hunted by his brother. Killua pauses, still in the silence of the night- and feels, more than hears, a buzzing in the air. It’s like the thrum of electricity through wires, like power contained in a vessel too small to hold the entirety of its energy- like it may burst out of its fragile shell the moment it grows to powerful.

Something about it, thought, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. What use is good sleep when the air hums like a warning? What use is good sleep when…

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He twitches, jolts upright from where he’s sprawled against the willow roots, absorbs his surroundings before he’s even drawn another breath. The draping leaves of the willow tree obscure anything beyond the small clearing from before, but Killua can see that the forest remains unchanged. He doesn’t remember much of anything after the sun fully set and the world started _spinning, spinning, spinning_ -

His sleep, while unnatural, wasn’t caused by Illumi. There’s no way Killua would have woken up here if that was the case. He would have woken in the punishment chamber, chained to the wall, black eyes watching each of his movements until his transgressions were paid for in blood.

“That’s weird,” he mutters and pats himself down cautiously, checking himself for any injuries he can’t remember, for anything to tell him what exactly happened to him. His fingertips meet the gritty fabric of his bloodstained shirt, entirely dry now, and he grimaces. He had completely forgotten that Mother’s blood had spattered on him, that he had fled without changing out of his clothing and continued like that until he found this hiding place.

The blood on his hands is dry now, flaky and falling in rusty flakes when his fingers bend. Killua hates the fact that he reeks like blood, that he smells like iron and that the color has stained his skin even after the flakes fall. He wonders if there’s a stream or lake nearby, so he can have a dip and wash away all this grime- all this evidence of a crime he feels no guilt for committing.

There’s no other mark on him though. Or on his clothes even. Killua just has the silent forest around him, his confusion, and a nagging feeling that something- he doesn’t yet know what- is horribly wrong.

He slowly steps out of the cover of the willow branches, eyes narrowing at the brambles twining between the trunks of the trees framing the clearing. He doesn’t remember _those_ being there before. There’s no way he could miss the massive wall of vegetation, the thorns as long as his palm, thick leaves growing from the shrubbery in a wild, unmanaged way. He doesn’t think he’s ever even seen a plant with thorns that large or that thick. He doesn’t think Mother even _covered_ this kind of plant in her lessons.

The forest is quiet, without the buzzing of insects or the rustling of creatures scurrying through the undergrowth. The stillness of the night isn’t as comforting as it should be. It reminds him of the silence as animals hide from something larger hunting them, as they hold still not for the silence but out of fear for their lives. The lack of sound puts him on edge, makes his nerves hum like there’s something just beyond the shadows, watching him. The tingle on his tongue as he draws in a breath of the cool night air unsettles him, sets alarms blaring inside him that he is _not_ supposed to be here.

Not at all.

He looks up at the night sky, trying to assess the time by the cast of the moon or position of stars. But the moment he turns his gaze upward, his lips slightly part in surprise. The discomfort of the blood dried on him, the unnatural energy in the air, are forgotten. Spread out like glitter on a black canvas, spiralling across the heavens in thick shining speckles, the heavens are alight with the luminance of a million stars.

There are so many of them. They coalesce and form a thick trail of light, arching straight through the sky in a milky line made of starlight. He’s caught in rapt attention. Has he ever seen so many stars in his life? He doesn’t think that even the peak of Kukuroo Mountain has a view like this, the sky spread out like it has no horizon to contain it, stars glistening like there is no end to them. They twinkle and shine and remind Killua of the dew on the garden flowers when he’s walked through it in the morning, trying to find the perfect blossom to gift to Alluka when he sees her later that day.

_I want Alluka to see this_ , he thinks and his mood plummets.

His interest in the night sky wanes as guilt surges.

Alluka hasn’t been allowed outside in years, hasn’t been allowed outside her room after the sun sets in just as long- and here he is, gawking at the sky like he hasn’t been free to see it whenever the whim strikes him. Like he has any right to appreciate the view when his sister is still trapped inside that mansion, a gilded cage that’s less gilded and more sharp edges, surrounded by people that think her better off dead.

He has to go back and save her. He promised her that he’d be back.

They won’t expect him to come back so soon after what he’s done, of that Killua is certain. Which means that right now is the perfect moment to hurry back and steal Alluka away. He’ll only have one shot to this. If he fails, the security around Alluka will be upped even more than the ridiculous amount it already is. If he fails, he won’t be allowed near Alluka ever again unless it is to drive a knife into her spine.

Killua takes a deep breath and tears his eyes away from the stars. He’ll look at them when he has his sister at his side, free from the burden that is the Zoldyck name, together once more. He stuffs his hands into his shorts pockets and walks towards a split in the wall of thorns, oddly enough the same place he entered the clearing from earlier. He has no explanation for the sudden appearance of the new plants, but he also doesn’t have the time to dwell on it. It’s something to think about when he has Alluka with him.

He leaves the clearing, takes a single step out past the brambles and whirls around at the sound of something moving behind him, a rustle of leaves and dragging of dirt.

The clearing has been blocked from him by the wall of thorns that are still squirming, eating up the small gaps that leave the willow tree visible and filling them with thickening branches. The brambles look like they’re alive, serpent-like, shifting, until they fall still and the way back is closed.

_What the hell?_  His senses are on edge, nerves tingling with adrenaline. Killua backs away quickly, eyes locked on the now unmoving brambles. That’s…. not normal. At all.

The towering trees around him don’t give him a hint as to what just happened, just remain, ancient and massive overhead. Killua’s fingers twitch in his pockets and he spins on his heel, anxious to get out of the forest now. It feels like there’s something he’s missing from this whole situation, like the answer is right on the verge of revealing itself to him but only just, only a breath away.

The tingle in the air doesn’t fade as he travels further from the unexplored part of the forest. Instead it seems to grow stronger, more potent as he approaches the small statues from before. Their blank faces peer into the dense and old part of the forest he leaves behind, timeless eyes unblinkingly watching as the trees grow taller into the sky. He has only just stepped out from the line of statues with the tingle in the air thickens, a buzz that he feels humming down to his bones, and the world around him _erupts_ in sound.

Everything is so _loud._

The ancient trees had muffled the sounds it seems, consumed them- because out here, all the missing sounds Killua took notice of earlier come back with a fierce vengeance. The leaves rustle with an unfelt breeze, the animals shake the undergrowth in their passing, the insects buzz and sing from their hiding places, and in the distance there is the faint sound of music. They all burrow into his ears, pounding against his eardrums, buzzing like they’re furious he’s at the heart of the forest to begin with.

Killua rocks back on his heels, hands flying out of his pockets to slam over his ears at the sudden burst of stimuli, heart beating fast inside his chest. His eyes dart around at the forest around him, casting a glance back to the statues and seeing beyond them trees that are tall but not as massive as the ones he saw on the way here; old but not the gnarled ancient ones he remembers.

It’s not what he saw there only a moment ago. The forest has changed shape around him, it has resettled it’s timeless bones around him, shifting until it’s no longer recognizable. Trees have slunk and moved places, almost soundlessly, with as much sound as a whisper of leaves. It’s like they are alive, except not just alive- but also aware.

How can a forest be self-aware? What kind of forest has trees that move and statues that change and willows that don’t belong? Maybe this place is cursed after all.

There’s something inexplicably _wrong_ here, something he doesn’t understand but can’t ignore, not anymore. Not when, as he climbs one of the nearby trees to catch sight of the Zoldyck mansion, it’s not the familiar view that greets him; not when there’s a lot more buildings and lights and _music_ in the place where his house used to be . Not when, as he catches sight of the moon rising from the horizon, it’s not only one that fills the sky… but _two_.

The double moons move around each other. The stars near their luminescence look dull, although still brilliant, still scattered across the sky like cosmic dust. Killua’s heart stutters nervously in his chest. His mouth goes dry. Dread settles in his stomach like lead, like the first time he drank poison- painful, churning messily in his belly, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin… _afraid_.

This isn’t the world he knows. This isn’t like anything he knows.

The world he knows doesn’t have two moons. It doesn’t have misplaced willow trees, or the buzzing of energy that sings unnatural songs in his ears, his blood, his _soul._ It has Alluka and the Zoldyck mansion, not this mysterious town with its mysterious lights in this mysterious place.

Dropping from the tree with no concern on where he lands, Killua tries to swallow down his reservations and sprints to where his home used to be- there no longer, only the unknown waiting in its place.

 

 

**iv.**

He reaches the edge of the forest far too soon.

There’s no Mike to greet him, or familiar lights of the mansion on the crest of the hill. There’s only a busy town, full of busy bodies hustling across the streets and tall building he doesn’t recognize in the place of the mansion. The mixture of noises from the town increases in volume the closer he gets to it, just as loud as some of the cities he's travelled to on missions.

It’s unsettling to hear something like that in the usual silent mountains. It viscerally reminds him that this place is not the one he has grown up in, that this is not the place he knows.

The outskirts of the town are framed with more trees, paper lanterns strung up from branch to branch like an odd boundary, a split between wilderness and settlement. While most of the town is surrounded by the lantern lined forest, there is a main road heading between the lush vegetation. It leads down to where Killua knows is the base of the mountain, where the Testing Gates tower tall and heavy between the world below and the mansion.

There is a tall red structure just before the town opens to the mouth of the road. It has thick wooden pillars, three lining the opposite sides of the road with smaller segments pushed through the all three of them, in a semblance of a rectangular shape. Atop of them there are long heavy slabs of wood, connecting to the tallest of the opposing pillars- with another long piece of wood, upward slanting roofing at the top of it all. Killua hasn’t seen anything like it before.

The lanterns are everywhere, hanging from building to building, illuminating the streets underneath with their soft flickering lights. A few trails are paved with wide, flat stones but the rest aren’t. The main streets are made of dirt, small tufts of grass sprouting by the edge of the paths, adding a splash of color to the already bright streets. Occasionally there will be a small flower nestled inside the grass, wild blossoms that seem to thrive without any interference.

Killua doesn’t see any footprints in the dirt, not even near the many wooden buildings that frame the streets, standing tall like silent sentries, watching him make his way deeper into the town. They’re all shaped differently. The varying curves, swooping arches, and straight lines give each of the buildings an entirely unique appearance; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a place that looks quite like this.

He explores the outskirts of the town like this, edging around it, not entering it just yet- simply drinking in the architecture and anxiously casting glances at the double moons rising higher in the sky. Killua has been trained for years to keep a level head and analyze situations for the best chance of survival and success. He has learned to examine his surroundings and figure out what to do without losing his cool when things don’t go as planned.

He’s not sure if it’s because of this that he dares enter the town, putting his slightly shaking hands in his pockets and taking more confident steps than he feels. Or if its because the shock has yet to hit, has yet to sink its fangs into him and shake him in its jaw like he’s nothing but a chew toy- has yet to sink in that he’s nowhere near home.

Maybe a combination of both.

Killua roves his gaze across the buildings, to the trees scattered throughout the town. This is a picturesque place, one that he wouldn’t be surprised to find full of people. It’s completely empty though.

Is this town abandoned? There’s no way it is, not when there are stalls lining the streets, plates piled high with decadent foods that are still steaming, and that same lilting music that he could hear all the way in the forest playing with no source in sight. The vacancy puts his nerves on edge, the odd hum of the energy in the air tastes like the air after it rains. It feels like he’s waiting for something to happen, for lighting to finally strike during a hot summer storm- but anxious that it will come down over his head when it does.  

Killua will admit, once he pushes aside the unnatural double moons, and the fact that the absence of his house is eating away at the lining of his insides- the town is pretty neat.

There are stone stairways rising at the end of the dirt streets, red railings made of the same wood as the odd gate at the town entrance. He climbs them without breaking a sweat, feet stuttering to a halt as he sees the massive building just ahead, past a lush tree wrapped in string and white pieces of paper; just beyond a long wooden bridge- right where the Zoldyck manor once resided.

He just stands there, staring at it, unaware that he has moved and is now close enough to drag his fingers across the thick wood of the railings. Unaware that he has attracted the attention of something pulling itself out of the tree behind him, humanoid and silent until it speaks.

(He doesn’t know that the scent of blood hangs so heavily it has left a trail across the town, that his wanderings have wound the scent around itself until it’s almost impossible to find the source. He doesn’t know that the smell clinging to him makes him a walking target. He doesn’t know that it is this potent smell of blood that rouses the spirit behind him from its slumber earlier than usual.)

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

Killua turns around slowly, still stunned by the sight of the massive bathhouse.

The speaker is a boy that looks to be his age.  His hazel eyes are locked on Killua, concern swimming in them as they scan him from head to toe, flashing with worry at the bloodstains on his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

“What? No.”

“But you reek of blood,” the boy tells him, pointedly looking at the stains on his clothes, “Plus, you’re covered in it. It smells like human. Are you a human?”

A block of ice grows in Killua’s stomach. _Are you a human_? What kind of question is that? Of course he is! Killua has the urge to shoot back the same question. A closer look at the boy makes his response stall in his mouth.

The boy’s brown skin has odd little patterns on it, like the bark of a tree except without the roughness; there are small sprouts growing from his collarbone, his arms, peeking out of the top of his spiked, green-tinted, black hair. Humans don’t grow plants from their skin. Humans don’t ask other humans if they’re human too.

Killua holds his tongue and instead raises a brow, hoping the movement looks as natural as he needs it to be, “Really? What do you think?”

The boy pouts. “Hey! You can’t answer a question with a question!”

“I just did,” Killua answers with a haughty little smirk, tacking on at the end, “What is this place anyway?”

“You don’t recognize it? Is this your first time here? ”

“I guess you could say this isn’t what I expected to see when I came here.”

“Well, it’s the most popular vacation town in all of the Spirit World.” The boy says, “Town, not city, since that would be York New and not Jiufen. But Leorio says that Jiufen is better since he’s able to study here under the doctor for free, and things aren’t as expensive as they are in the big cities. Kurapika says that Leorio is just a cheapskate and that Jiufen is nice because of the natural hot springs, and the forest around it, and there aren’t as many annoying people here.”

The boy’s rambling is making Killua’s head spin. His mind is struggling to put a place to all the names, places and information he’s been given- although that’s mostly because it has latched on to a single phrase, a single combination of words that makes his stomach twist and something cold seep into his bones. The moons crest directly overhead, silvery light cast down on both of them.

“Spirit… World?”

“Yeah?” The boy says, tilting his head to the side in bewilderment, “Where else would we be?”

“I-” Killua is interrupted by the loud ringing of a gong, the sonorous thrumming filling the air, vibrating like the energy that has itched at his skin since he woke up- ringing again and again. In the distance, there’s a slow scraping, like the Testing Gates have been opened, all at once- and then, the empty looking town is not empty any longer. His words catch in his throat and do not escape.

They appear like specters, like the shadows that dance against the wall when a candle flame flickers. Some of them are shapeless, inconsistent figures squirming and shifting their way up the dirt streets. Some of them resemble animals. He sees a frog-like creature, wearing an odd looking robe, one like the boy near him but with a different color and pattern. It’s talking to a creature with the head of a boar, gesticulating wildly with webbed hands, followed closely by a half-naked turnip, who sits at one of the food stalls with a jiggle of its soft white flesh.

They’re sniffing the air, following the scent of food to the stalls- circling the town, like they’ve caught the smell of something interesting. _It smells like human_ , the boy had said and Killua takes a step back, bumping into the boy and jerking himself away from the contact.

Killa feels ill. His pulse is beating frantically in his veins, like his heart is a drum and something is pounding away at it, drumming out a melody he cannot fathom. He doesn’t hear what the boy is saying to him, and while he sees the spark of concern in the boy’s eyes, Killua cannot bring himself to care. Not when he’s realizing that it truly is a different world he’s woken up in, and that all those rumors- _the forest is hungry and will swallow you whole-_ are true.

_Spirits,_ he thinks and his ears ring like sirens heard from a distance. _I’m in the Spirit World,_ he thinks again and his stomach roils. Choking dread bubbles up inside him. It’s cloying and overwhelming and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, scared and angry and helpless, all at once.

The boy comes closer, mouth moving and arm slowly creeping forward, like Killua is a wild animal that needs to be approached with caution. Isn’t he? Isn’t he just something to be gawked at in this world, human where nothing else is, a target when he’s never been anything of the sort before?

Killua is aware enough to back away from the boy as well, to step away from his reaching hand before it could make contact, knowing that he might react with brute force instinctually. He is aware enough to see the moment a dog-headed spirit whirls to stare right at him, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, jowls moving in what could only be a single word- _human._

Things blur from there on forward. He doesn’t know how when returns to the forest, or when he leaves the town with his heart choking him and his hands shaking. All he knows is that after seeing the spirits fill the town, after hearing the boy tell him just where he is- where he is now trapped, he had slipped into a foggy haze and fled.

What weight does his name hold here? What use is this freedom when he has no chance of rescuing Alluka? What use is anything when he can't fulfil the promises he made?

He finds a tree branch close enough to the town that he can still hear the music, and settles there, unmoving for hours. The knowledge that he has strayed into a place that is not meant for humans to enter chokes him. It feels like the very air is humming in his chest, like the constant energy in this world is filling his lungs like water. It mingles with the dread festering in him and turns it into something like despair. He feels disconnected from himself, like he's lost touch with everything he is.

The buzzing in the air feels like pure energy in his veins, like he’s downed a shot of a pure caffeine and it’s being metabolized all at once. He feels jittery, anxious. His leg bounces up and down, and keeps his eyes locked on the nearby lanterns, tracing their shape and feeling the color burn into his mind.

He pointedly doesn’t think of how relieved he is that he won't have to face his guilt in his dreams. It doesn’t do anything to stop it from sinking its sharp and jagged fangs into him while he’s awake.

Killua doesn’t sleep that night. He can stay up without sleep for days until he collapses from exhaustion. He doesn’t really even _need_ to sleep, in all honesty- but he hates how muddled his thoughts become after spending too long awake, how his brain fogs up from the sleep it can’t have.

Tonight, though, it is guilt keeping him awake, not training, not practice.

It is guilt that seeps into him, that razes like wildfire in his lungs, that keeps him from closing his eyes without seeing a flash of Alluka’s face behind his lids. It is guilt that ticks in every beat of his heart, that clicks in every shifting of muscle, of nerves, of body- until it swallows up the silence with its voracious hunger. Until Killua can do nothing but stay awake all night and _ache_ with the guilt of his broken promise pressing down on everything he is.

 

 

**v.**

Alluka drags her fingertips across the cold steel walls of her bedroom, feeling every divot , every scratch- wondering how she ever thought this was normal, how she ever looked at her cage and called it home. Is it because she cannot remember living in another room but this one? Is it because she cannot miss something if it was never hers to begin with- freedom, normalcy, the world beyond these metal walls- even though every cell in her body wants for nothing more than what she does not have?

There is hurt inside her chest. It grows a bit more every time she remembers Mother’s words, every time she thinks of the darkness in Illumi-nii’s eyes as he looked at her. What is so wrong about her that not even Mother loves her, that not even Illumi-nii can stand the fact that she exists? If she’s so wrong then is it wrong for Nii-san to love her, for him to reassure her when their siblings and parents and servants shun her, and look at her with thinly veiled fear and spite?

Is it Nanika? Is it Alluka, herself?

She doesn't entirely remember a time before Nanika. The blurred images she's able to call to mind are fragmented, lost to the distracted memory of a child- of someone unaware of anything besides their basest instincts. The thought of living without Nanika by her side, of spending her life with just herself and no spirit living inside her, fills Alluka with dread.

How can people live like that? How can they survive how silent and lonely everything can get without the constant buzzing of something living-but-not-quite near their heart?

She asked Nii-san about it once and he paused, thinking about it, “ _Maybe they don’t really live,”_ he said and shrugged. The thought of it makes Alluka uncomfortable. Is it possible for someone to live without really living at all, is that really being alive to begin with? Nii-san didn’t know the answer when she asked him, and by the odd glint in his eyes, was pondering the question more than he let seem.

Her nail catches on the edge of a gouge in the metal, a badly drawn image of her standing hand in hand with Nii-san, who carved it during one of his visits. Over the two of them, the sun has a smile, and a sloppy flower protrudes from the bottom of the wall. Alluka misses him. She wishes he was here with her, petting her hair and giving her hugs and bringing her snacks from the world outside.

Instead, she is left alone with the echoes of Mother’s words repeating in her ears. Instead, her breath stutters in her lungs at the memory of Illumi-nii’s eyes on her that day. Instead, Alluka wonders how long it will take until the food that comes to her is poisoned- just how long it will take for someone to drive a knife into her chest.

Nii-san would protect her, Nanika _does_ protect her- but living like this, fearful and locked away; is it really worth living for in the end? Alluka feels chained to this mansion, to this underground room like there’s a weight around her ankle that keeps her from floating away like a cloud.

“ _A pretty cage is still a cage,”_ Nii-san murmured into her hair once, thinking she was asleep; it was his reply to her comment earlier that day, that even when she couldn’t go outside, it was okay as long as she see it, _“I won’t let you live your entire life in one.”_

It is this promise that keeps Alluka strong. It is this promise that makes the outside world call to her like it can hear her longing to be amidst it. It is this promise that makes her willing to wait for Nii-san to free her, no matter how long it takes- no matter how much it hurts to watch him leave her every time.

She hasn’t seen Nii-san since that evening when she overheard Mother and Ilumi-nii after watching the sun set. She wishes there were windows in here. Wants to look out the window and watch the world pass by, to see the seasons change and pretend that she’s out there, among it all.

The memory of the world outside the windows are muddled, lost to time as the years have gone by. It’s hard to remind herself that once upon a time she had played among the trees, walked amidst the garden flowers with her bare feet, chased after songbirds with glee. It feels like a lifetime ago, like the freedom from then is nothing more than an after image of a lost dream- of a strange world she never belonged in, to begin with.

How old was she then? How long has it been?

It almost feels like she’s lived her entire life watched like a bomb ready to explore, though she know that it can’t be as long as she thinks it’s been. She still longs for the world beyond the mansion, outside the windows, free from the Butlers and cameras; where she can walk barefoot in the grass once more, where no one will call her boy or young lord again; where she can be with Nii-san and they can finally be free.

Time passes slowly in this room. There are no windows, no clocks, nothing for her to know how much time has gone by; there is no way for her to know what day it is, or whether it’s night or day. Nanika knows, Nanika always seems to know when the sun has set and whether the moon is full. But sometimes Nanika forgets that Alluka doesn’t know this in the same way Nanika does- deep  in the fiber of what they’re made of, entire body singing as the night grows outside, sleepily swirling as the day breaks.

It’s not lonely when Nanika is awake, and Alluka usually sleeps when Nanika does- just so she’s not left alone with her thoughts and longings and wishes for the word beyond these walls. And, oh how she longs for freedom, for the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin and the grass under her feet. Oh how she wants to go wherever Nii-san goes, wants to see the world together with him, with Nanika. If she were far away from here, Alluka wouldn’t have to stare at these metal walls, wondering why her family doesn’t love her- or why they want her dead.

(She knows why, even when she wishes it were otherwise. She knows why even without the singing of Nanika inside her chest as the moon rises again and again; knows it even without the fearful gaze of the Butlers as they bring trays of food through the layers of doors that block her away from the world.)

Sometimes, Alluka dreams of flying. She dreams of a world with twin moons dancing in a brilliant sky, of endless forests stretched out beneath her, of glittering cities and towns cresting upwards like ancient trees.

_home,_ Nanika breathes after the dreams have ended and Alluka has opened her eyes to metal walls once more, _flying, free, nanika miss home._ What kind of place does Nanika come from, Alluka wonders as she thinks back to those endless skies, just what is it like to be that free?

“I want to see it,” Alluka whispers in the silence of her cage, behind the walls, beneath the ground, waiting for Nii-san to come for her again. “Nii-san promised he would take us away from here, we can see it then can’t we?” But, Nii-san hasn’t come to see her again, has he?

He has left her here after telling her she’ll see him soon, has run away from Mother and Illumi-nii and hasn’t been found yet- at least not that she knows it. She’s been allowed out once already in his absence and spend it talking to Alluka, peering out the window, waiting for Nii-san to come back. To come see her again… But he doesn’t. Not that first day, or the next, or the next, or the next, or the next, or the-

Nii-san doesn’t come back. He has vanished. He is gone.

He is gone like the small spirits Nanika swallows whole sometimes, when they creep into her room and stare at her from the corners like they’re hungry and empty. He is gone like the sun behind the horizon, like the freedom that was once hers- like he always promised he wouldn’t be.

She’s sitting on the floor, legs tucked underneath her, hugging a battered plush rabbit to her chest. Her teeth bites into her lower lip and her eyes water. _I miss Nii-san_ , she thinks and buries her face into the rabbit. Her shoulder shake as she forces back sobs. She misses him so much.

( _His absence eats Alluka alive._ )

Alluka waits until she cannot wait any more. That night in the stillness of her locked room, she whispers an idea to Nanika. She whispers it in a low voice, so that the cameras will not hear it, buries her mouth under her blankets so that her lips can’t be read either.

Nanika hums in surprise, coiling around itself like a shadowed snake and springing up, seeping out of Alluka like a mist pouring out of her skin. It reshapes in the air besides her, bone white face peering back at her from the swirling black. Nanika’s black eyes curve upwards, mouth a slash of darkness moving as it speaks, more coherent than the fragments of sentences that Alluka has learned to understand from inside her.

‘ _alluka,’_ Nanika says, voice like the static on the television when Nii-san is first hooking up his game system, like the shaking of the trees in the heart of a storm, ' _n_ _anika is ready._ ' And after a deep breath, staring into the darkness that is Nanika’s eyes, Alluka nods, shuts her eyes and makes a wish.


	2. trapped

**vi.**

When he was younger, before he had learned that what he was put through in his training wasn’t normal- wasn’t how every other child was raised, Killua would bleed and wonder if this was what love was.

He would stare at the faded bloodstains on the wall, the darker speckles standing out against the grey concrete of the dungeon, and let himself wonder if this was as much of a kindness as Illumi told him it was. If it was as much of a necessity as his father assured him it was; as impressive as Mother always said he was when he learned how to stop crying out after the first session, when he stopped shedding tears after the fifth, when he didn’t crack under the pain ever again.  

When Killua was younger, he bled for this definition of love. He grit his teeth against the pain until he didn’t need to anymore because that is what he knew of the world, what he knew would garner the attention and kindness from his family, the love he always wanted but never truly understood.

At least, not until he met Alluka.

His sister has always offered her smiles to him freely, has always been kind and happy. To her, it never mattered how much of a failure he was in the beginning when he couldn’t bring himself to kill anyone- at not least until Illumi carved that weakness, that failure out of him. Alluka has always been better than him, has always seen the world differently, found it to be something lovely and mysterious.

Killua can’t understand that kind of optimism, not after what their family has put them through. Not after everyone started to shun Alluka for something she couldn’t control.

 _“How can the world be so nice,”_ he asked once, “ _if you’re not allowed to see it. If the only reason I’m allowed into it is to just kill?”_

Alluka had smiled, she had reached for his hand and answered, “ _Because any world is bearable if you’re somewhere in it, Nii-san. Because anywhere is nice as long as you’re there with me.”_

That’s when he realized what his family had been doing to him- _chained like a prize dog too valuable to have run away, carving lessons into him so that they never fade, trained to fight but to never bite the hand that feeds him-_ wasn’t love at all. Because _this_ was love.

Hand in hand with his sister, the only person that loved him without judgment, without expectation; Killua made a promise to himself, breathing it out loud for Alluka to hear, “ _I’ll get you out of here one day. I’ll make sure you’re free and no one can cage us again.”_

And yet… And yet, she’s far beyond his reach now, further than his simple mortal hands can even begin to bridge. He's in another world entirely, lost amidst the spirits and creatures that call this land their home. How can he reach Alluka from here? How can he even _begin_ to bridge the gap?

Killua watches the twin moons dance across the sky, settling beyond the horizon as dawn breaks. He wonders if the spirits from last night have left the town, or if they linger there, taking part in a celebration he doesn’t understand. The music lasted most of the night, stopping only now that the sun rises.

The boy from yesterday crosses his mind, asking if he was human like seeing a human being was something unheard of- like being human here means something entirely differently than it does back home. Killua scoffs at himself. Of course, it means something else here.

He’s a human in the Spirit World, and while he doesn’t know much about spirits beyond Nanika- that can’t be good news for him. (There’s no way he can forget how Nanika asks for gifts of human flesh, of human blood, more often than not.)

He has to find a way to get back, but the way to the willow tree has been sealed off from him. He tried to return last night, but couldn’t even find the statues that showed he was close to the clearing- as if it has all just vanished after bringing him here against his will. He pretends that being kidnapped by a tree doesn’t give him the creeps, even though he doesn’t think he’s ever been more unsettled in his life. He _did_ find a stream running nearby though, and scrubbed at his clothes and skin until they were as clean as they were going to get. Which isn't as good as if someone that actually knew how to wash clothing in the wilderness would do it, but better than he expected from his first attempt.

His last resort now is to return to the town and see if any of the spirits there know exactly what happened to him. His skin crawls at the thought of talking to one of those living shadows, they remind him if the darkness in his brother's eyes far too much. The boy that talked to him yesterday is Killua's best option, though he isn't sure where to find him.

Killua waits for the sun to rise a little more before he stands and drops from the tree, making his way to the town once more, hands in his pockets, working his lower lip between his teeth. He wonders if he still smells of blood, like human, and whether this will make the boy appear to him like it did yesterday.

He finds himself in front of the bathhouse, staring at the red wood of the bridge, swallowing a lump in his throat at knowing that in another world, this is where he would see his sister again. But the mansion doesn't appear in the space between his blinks, between his breaths, between his heartbeat. It doesn't appear and he is alone and everything inside him hurts.

The boy doesn’t show up either, but the tree behind him rustles despite the lack of wind. Killua casts a glance at it before shaking his head at his lack of company. He needs answers. If they boy can’t help him, then he’ll have to go to the next best thing- the massive bathhouse before him, looming tall and an odd mixture of modern and ancient.

(He tries not to think of just what could be lurking inside the building that has taken the place of the fabled Zoldyck mansion, of what creatures call it their domain, of whether his skills will be enough to protect himself if anything inhuman decides to attack him.)

He doesn’t give himself time to change his mind.

He steps on the bridge and crosses it, standing before the massive wooden doors, staring up at them for a moment. He doesn’t reach midway up the door. Killua wonders what kind of spirits step through this massive door, what exactly hides behind this door. His fingers twitch in his pockets. _Don’t think about it,_ he tells himself. He places his hands on the surface of the wood, counting to three.

_1… 2… 3…_

“Hey! What are you doing!?”

Killua jerks away from the door and he spins on his heel, eyes already taking in his surroundings. He finds no one behind him, only the lone tree across the bridge and the flower patches near the entrance of the bathhouse. But the speaker is nowhere to be seen.

“Up here,” the voice calls out irately, “On the second floor to your left.”

He follows the instructions warily, tilting his head back and meeting the unamused eyes of a bespeckled man through an open window. He doesn’t look like those other spirits, more humanoid, like the boy Killua met yesterday if not more. Although, if he focuses, Killua can see the tip of small horns on both sides of his head, maybe not, after all. He looks human enough that Killua isn’t unsettled by him at all.

“What’s the big deal? We’re closed right now! That doesn’t mean you can try letting yourself in!” When the man speaks, he reveals pointed teeth with prominent canines. What exactly _is_ he?

“When do you open?”

“The same time we always do. When the sun sets and the gong rings.”

“That’s not a very specific schedule, you know.”

The man sputters, “Well, what would you know about schedules, Mr. I’ll-just-break-in!?”

“That’s not a conductive way to talk to a potential customer either,” Killua shoots back just for the hell of it, even though he doesn’t even know what goes on inside the bathhouse, to begin with. “Why, I might just leave and report you to the person in charge.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” the man gasps, “Bisky would put me on tub scrubbing duty for the next year.”

Killua just raises an eyebrow and lets his poker face do the rest of the work. The man crumbles and his shoulders sinks. His expression is defeated.

“So are you going to let me in?” Killua asks, far too amused than the situation calls for.

The man heaves a sigh and nods. “I’ll be right down.” He grumbles and vanishes from the window.

The moment he’s out of sight, Killua doubles over laughing. Who knew that messing with spirits could be as funny as messing with people? Oh man, this really perked him up a bit. He laughs for a little longer, wiping a tear from his eye and gathering his composure. So the person in charge is named Bisky? That’s good information to know, considering Killua is probably going to hunt her down and get the answers he needs from her after he ditches his ticket into the building, the mouthy spirit with glasses.

When he rounds the corner of the building instead of coming in through the front gate, Killua’s first thought is that this guy is _enormous._ He stands taller than Illumi, taller than his Father, almost three heads over the top of Killua’s head. He’s slouching, hands tucked inside the pockets of his robe-like clothing.

He almost looks like he’s moping about being beaten in a verbal fight, which from what Killua has seen of the guy’s personality, just might be the case. A small breeze blows from behind him and towards the man, who snaps up his head and straightens, peering intently at Killua. His nostrils flare, a look of bewilderment crossing his face, one that shifts into confusion- and then horror.

“You’re a human!?”

“So what if I am,” Killua asks smoothly, dangerously, an unspoken, ‘ _what are you gonna do about it?’_ in his tone, in the blank expression on his face.

“I can’t believe this,” the man says, rubbing a hand across his jaw and groaning, “Just my luck to find a damn human at the gates.” He points a finger at Killua, and he tenses, ready to attack at the slightest hint of danger. “Just to be clear, you’re not here to hurt any of the guests are you?” Killua shakes his head, “ _Or_ causes property damage!?” Killua shakes his head again.

The man sighs, dragging his fingers through his short hair. “Okay, you know what. I’ll let you in, but I’m taking you straight to Bisky. After that you’re not my responsibility. I work in the damn infirmary, so this isn’t my job anyway. I can’t get in trouble anyway since I don’t even work here.” After a beat, fights back an obvious scowl, kicking at the ground with a sandal-clad foot, muttering, “Not that it stops Bisky from putting me to work like I do.”

Louder, he says, “We’ll have to go through the side entrance, so just follow me.”

He’s hesitant to follow, especially after that whole display about him being human, but he has no other choice. He needs to get home to Alluka, no matter what. He casts a final glance at the main gate, readying himself for what awaits him inside.

He steps onto the path.

 

 

 **vii**.

“So is this place just a bathhouse?” Killua asks, taking in the surroundings as he matches the man’s reluctant pace. There are rose bushes and hydrangeas framing the stone path that splits off from the main one. Lanterns are strung up along the side of the building and hung up from wooden poles to illuminate the small path in the dark, or at least that’s what Killua thinks they’re for.  

“You don’t even know what this place is and tried to force your way in anyway?” The man says, shooting him an incredulous glance, “That’s such a human thing to do.”

“Met many humans, have you?”

The man scowls but doesn’t reply, walking faster past the gardens. The path continues around the other side of the building, but they stop in front of a screen door that looks like it’s made of paper and wood. He stomps up the steps and slides open the door, taking off his sandals at the entrance and pointedly staring at Killua until he stops and does the same. Is this a spirit thing? Or does this guy just really like keeping the floors clean?

The floors themselves are made of a light wood, and Killua glides across the floor after the spirit without making a sound. The man glances back a few times to make sure he’s still following, clearly expecting him to be much louder. They pass by several shut doors, voices audible from behind them- with several of the voices stopping mid-sentence, only for the doors to fly open after they have passed.

Spirits of all shapes and sizes stick their heads out the doorways, wide-eyed and sniffing the air loudly. They all talk at once, scampering out into the hallway, following after Killua and his guide eagerly.

“Human!?” “Do I smell a human?” “Is there a human here?”

Killua grits his teeth and forces himself to remain calm. He wonders if anything else could have sniffed him out yesterday, and how lucky he should count himself to not have to put his training to use against something like a spirit. He wonders if he’ll have to find out if he can beat a spirit soon enough.

“Stop being so damn nosey!” The man leading him shouts at the spirits trailing behind, “Or I’ll tell Bisky that you all left your posts to harass a visitor.”

The threat gives several of the spirits pauses, but the more determined ones- the more inhuman looking ones, he notes- keep following them. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” “I just want to get a better look.” “I thought Kurapika was supposed to be the buzzkill.”

“Just keep on walking,” his guide tells him, “We’re almost to the lift.”

Killua can see it, beyond the creamy walls, a sturdy metal door. That must be the lift. They reach quickly reach it and the man jabs at the button on the wall impatiently. Right above the door, a light turns on, with a small metal arm pointing at numbers overhead. The numbers drop as the seconds tick by, and behind them, the mob of spirits comes closer.

“Oi, Leorio,” a woman’s voice calls, muffled but very, very close.

Killua turns his head to look at her, though there isn’t much he can see. She’s holding a massive pile of tacked papers  in her arms, obscuring her face from view. She seems to know where she’s stepping though, because she doesn’t drop a single one, moving closer to the man ( _Leorio?)_.

“Please Leorio, tell me that’s you and not some poor bastard that just sounds like you.”

Killua sees Leorio’s eye twitch with annoyance, “What do you want from me, Clem?”

“Oh it is you!” The woman, Clem, exclaims in delight, happily bouncing in place before forcing herself still as the papers wobble precariously. “I need you to press the button for me. I’ve been waiting for someone to  so I could ask them, but you’re the first one that’s passed by.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Bisky asked me for the month’s reports, so I’ve gotta drop these off to her office.”

The lift doors open with a ding and Leorio ushers him in, hesitating for a moment before letting the woman enter after him. He reaches inside and presses the button to the highest floor, keeping a hand against the doors so that they don’t shut just yet. “Look kid, I’ll keep these idiots distracted. Just follow Clem here to Bisky’s office, she’s a bit of an idiot too, but she won’t hurt ya.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?”

“When you talk to Bisky, do your best to not call her old, or piss her off. She’s more powerful than she seems. So be careful. You may be annoying as hell, but nobody deserves a pissed Bisky.”

“Are you ignoring me, Leorio?”

Killua nods and Leorio removes his arm, turning to face the horde of spirits and letting the doors slide shut behind him. There’s a small ding and then, the lift begins to move up.

The lift is silent for a moment, before Clem sighs. “He wasn’t even listening to me, was he?”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Well, damn.” More silence. “What’d you need with Bisky anyway?” The papers shift slightly, there’s a loud sniff. “Well, I guess I should be asking: What’s a _human_ need with Bisky anyway?”

“I’ve got a few things to ask her about this place.” Killua answers, shrugging before realizing Clem can’t see him. “And the Spirit World in general, I guess.”

“Ohh, I see. You got dragged here by accident huh?”

Killua's heart skips a beat. He forces his voice to remain calm. “That happen a lot?”

“Hmm, more than you may think. Although, not a lot of them survive very long.”

He thinks back to the spirits following them down the hall, how some of them couldn’t tear their eyes away from him, even after Leorio’s threat. He’s not used to uncertainty, to not being able to simply use force to get out of a situation- and the affirmation that humans don’t last long here doesn't do anything to calm his worries. Killua needs to get back. He _needs_ to.

“Spirits eat humans?”

“What? No! Well, at least not most of them.” Clem adds under her breath, and shifts the papers in her arms into a more comfortable position. The lift continues to rise. “Humans just aren’t compatible with the Spirit World. Most of them start to fade away, or go crazy after being here for too long.”

“Most of them. What happens to the rest?”

“Psh, that’s easy, they-” The lift reaches the top floor with a soft bing. The doors slide open. “Oh snap,” Clem mutters, “Lemme drop these off first.”

The hallway is dimly lit, but at the end of it is an illuminated doorway. Clem hurries out of the lift, Killua following after her, frustrated that his question is going unanswered. The carpets at their feet are plush and Killua’s shoes sink into the luxurious fabric with every step. On the bright side, he’s learned more about the world he’s in- even if he still doesn’t have the information he wants, like how to go home.

They reach the end of the hall quickly, Clem somehow knowing just where to pause and turn to enter the room- even with her vision obscured by all the paper. Killua follows, carefully entering the room after the her, scanning the new room with sharp eyes.

It’s simple enough, the fireplace empty and newly cleared, an expensive looking rug under his bare feet, bookshelves and porcelain lamps scattered across the room. There’s a sectioned glass door spanning across the entire back wall, the sun seeps through it bright and warm. Killua glances around, seeing a thick curtain between this room and another, which he’s itching to investigate.

Clem shuffles the papers in her arms, balancing them all in a single one. Then, she swipes her free arm across the top of the desk, knocking everything on it to the floor. There’s a loud crash as the bags hit the ground, tinkling glass meeting glass meeting floor. Clem heaves the pile of paperwork up and slams it down onto the desk, heaving a relieved sigh once her arms are free.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to piss Bisky off,” he comments, pointedly staring at the trinkets and sacks that she has knocked off the desk. “This looks like the opposite of that.”

Clem turns around, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head at him, slitted eyes meeting his. “Don’t worry about it, this isn’t the kind of shit that pisses her off. Now, what you want to avoid is insulting her, which is easy enough.” She smiles, pointed teeth peeking out from behind her lips, “So you’re a human huh? It’s been a while since I saw one of you.”

“You’ve actually met other humans?”

“Clementine over there,” a girlish voice calls from beyond the curtained room, “Used to be one herself.”

Killua’s jaw drops. Used to be human? “Is that possible!?”

Clem clicks her tongue, “Well, of course, it just isn’t a common thing. But I’m far from being the only one.” Killua stares at her, reassessing her with this new knowledge. Besides the slitted eyes, the sharpened teeth, the inhuman point of the ears visible through her hair- Killua would would have thought her human, like him. She’s not a monstrously tall height like Leorio, or as otherworldly like the boy from yesterday.

“How?”

“What an interesting question for the little human to be asking-” the curtains part and a young girl steps through. She’s wearing a sleeveless dress with a puffy skirt, white gloves that fit snugly on her hands and leather shoes click across the title before quieting once they meet the rug. Her blonde hair is up in a braided bun, something Killua recognizes from when Mother would play with Kalluto’s hair, “-it makes me curious to see what it’s willing to pay for the answers.”

“The price of knowledge is a steep-” She stops and stares at the mess on the floor, eyebrow twitching. Killua holds back a snigger at the expression on her face. Milluki gets the same look on his face when he tries to be dramatic and fails, “Clementine?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you do this?”

“Yep.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“It was in the way.” Clem scratches the back of her head, “Oh and I brought your paperwork, it’s on the desk.” At this, Killua can’t hold back his laughter.

“God, Leorio was right, you _are_ an idiot.” He manages between snickers, bursting into laughter again at the affronted expression on Clem’s face and the agreement on the girl’s- who Killua is guessing can only be Bisky. She snaps her fingers and from the curtained room, a small creature enters the room.

It looks like it’s made of jewels, a golem of shiny stones, with rubies as eyes. Bisky points to the mess on the floor, “Clean this up won’t you?” The creature nods its head and slowly approaches the mess, starting to pick everything up, one by one.

Bisky moves behind her desk, sitting on the plush chair, craning her neck to look at him past the paperwork. She interlaces her fingers in front of her, resting them on the wood of the desk, professional except for the fact she looks to be his age. It makes it hard to take her seriously.

She clears her throat. “So tell me, Clementine, why have you brought a human to me?”

“He was already on his way here when I found him,” Clem says with a shrug, “But I think he got dragged over to this side by accident and is trying to get back home.” She turns her gaze on him, surprisingly keen for what he’s seen of her, “Am I right?”

Killua nods, “I can’t stay.”

She doesn’t look surprised, more understanding, and Killua remembers that once upon a time it was her in his place. There’s a soft chiming coming from the bracelet she wears around her wrist, and she brings it to her ear, listening intently. Clem blinks and tilts her head, “It seems I’m needed somewhere else.”

Bisky raises a brow, “Anything I should know?”

“Nah, I can deal with it. I’ll see you later, Bisky.” She smiles at him, “I’ll see you around if you’re still alive, human.” She leaves, letting the door close behind her with a soft thud.

Bisky doesn’t say anything for a moment. Her shoe taps on the underside of the desk. Then, she meets his eyes, solemn, “I’m sorry, I’m just a witch, not a god. I can’t help you cross dimensions without knowing how you got here.”

“I _need_ to get home, my sister is waiting for me.”

“It’s best if you forget about what you left behind.” Bisky says, pity swimming in her eyes, “There’s no going back. Humans never survive here long enough to find a way out and if they do, they turn into spirits. And everyone knows that spirits cannot survive in the Human World without a body.”

Nanika crosses his mind, formless, sharing a body with Alluka. _Nothing more than a parasite,_ a vicious part of him hissed when he first learned what had happened to his sister for her to be shunned like she is, _nothing more than a curse._ He has grown past this, has learned to see Nanika as part of his family too, like another facet of Alluka that he does not understand but still cares for.

So this is what happened to Nanika. The spirit crossed to the Human World and latched on to Alluka because it was afraid to die. (Would he be willing to do the same, just to see his sister again? He wants to say yes, but the thought of being a mere shade of himself makes his stomach churn.)

“I am Killua Zoldyck. I won’t die because of this.” Killua says, raising his chin defiatantly, “So help me find a way back and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Bisky’s eyes spark with intrigue, her mouth curls into a sly smile, “Are you proposing a deal, little lost Zoldyck?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Then, sit down-” she waves a hand and a chair appears across from her, waves it again and the paperwork flies of the desk and settles onto the floor in a neat stack, “-and let’s make a _deal_.”

 

 

 **viii**.

In the end, the terms set were this: Killua will work in the bathhouse for as long as he is human, alive, or until there is a way for him to return to the Human World; he will give up part of his name for the deal to be struck. In exchange, Bisky will pour all of her resources into researching the willow tree, into figuring out just what happened for him to be brought into the Spirit World- offering him protection from the man-eating creatures that may visit the bathhouse and providing for his needs.

In her words, “I’ll be your patron, but for the most part, you will _belong_ to me. Do you understand?”

Killua almost took back his offer at that comment, felt the weight of what he was doing (striking a deal with a witch) settle on his stomach and creep up his throat. It took a moment, he had to picture Alluka’s smile in his mind, remember her laughter- but he managed to swallow down the trepidation.

“I understand,” he said, and then, signed his freedom away.

Now, he’s back on the lift, head tilted back to blankly stare at the corner of the metal box. The bracelet Bisky handed him- to ward away curious spirits, she said; _a mark of ownership_ , Killua knows was left unsaid- sits heavy on his left wrist. He draws a shaky breath, dragging his hand over his face and covering his mouth with his palm. His breath is hot on his skin. His heart feels like a war drum in his chest.

“For Alluka,” he whispers, warped reflection in the metal staring back at him, “It’ll be worth it.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He hasn’t pressed a button yet, is taking this moment of silence to ground himself, to come to terms with what he’s done just to see his sister again.

Just for the _chance_ to see her again.

Freedom is something he’s always valued but taken for granted. Less when he realized that if his family pleased, they could have him chained and sealed away like Alluka has been- but enough that having it taken away from him knocks the wind out of him, leaves him falling in a freefall with no parachute. He can't believe he had thought he understood what Alluka was going through; he can't believe that he thought he knew what it meant to be caged.

Is this how Alluka lives? Knowing that she’s at the whim of someone else, living life in a snapshot of moments she’s allowed out of her room, never knowing when the leash will tighten around her throat?

The lift shudders and begins descending, having been summoned from a different floor, by someone coherent enough to push the button. He stares at the numbers ticking down for a moment longer before he straightens, eases his breathing and stuffs his hands back into his pockets.

When the lift stops and the doors slide open, Killua is ready to face the consequences of his deal with Bisky. He brushes past the spirit waiting for the life and steps into the hall. He feels the spirit stare at his retreating back, sees the way the bustle of spirits halts when he enters the main hall.

The whispers are the same as before, with comments on his acquired employment.

“A human!?” “He reeks of Bisky's magic.” “Poor idiot made a deal with her.”

“So you’re the human that has everyone riled up,” a smooth voice cuts in through the rackous chatter, everyone falling silent and nervously glancing around to find the source. Killua snaps his head to the side and watches as the crowd parts to let a slim man through. He doesn’t have any outward features that show he’s not as human as he appears, just a girlish face, shoulder length blond hair and his eyes-

 _Oh_ , Killua thinks after meeting them, _there it is._

Those eyes are a vibrant red. Like the living scarlet of a starving fire, the glowing crimson of dying embers waiting to be fed again. Like the splatters after he drives his hand into someone’s chest and tears out their still beating heart. Bright, bloody, _demonic._

“Oh shit, it’s Kurapika.” “Get your ass back to work!” “I’m not about to get in trouble for this!”

The hall quickly clears of curious spirits, leaving Killua alone with this ‘Kurapika’- who watches him with those unnaturally red eyes. It takes him a moment to recall what Kurapika had said, and not knowing how to reply, shrugs, saying, “I’m Killua. I’m gonna work here from now on.”

Kurapika stares at him, assessing him, before he sighs. “Bisky made me aware of the deal the two of you made,” he turns around, calling over his shoulder, “Follow me, I’ll give you a change of clothes and explain your new position here.”

Killua wants to be offended that he’s being guided around like a lost pet, but he doesn’t have a single clue as to how to navigate inside this place. All he’s seen of the inside of the building are quick glances in his rush to the lift earlier, not enough to figure out where to go if he needs to.

So he slouches, buries his hands deeper into his pockets, and follows.

The tour doesn’t last long, Kurapika bustles them from room to room with a simple explanation as to what goes on inside them, speeding through the bath house until they’re at what Killua can recognize as the servant’s quarters. Kurapika slides open the door, startling the people inside, Leorio and the boy from yesterday, the plant-like one. Leorio scowls upon seeing both of them, turning back to his work of what appears to be detangling vines from the boy’s skin and his clothes, sticking them together.

The boy smiles brightly. “Kurapika! Human! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Killua chances a glance at Kurapika, taken aback by the enthusiasm of someone he only met a day before, curious to see how the standoffish spirit deals with it. He blinks in surprise at seeing the small smile, the softening of those hellfire eyes.

“It’s nice to see you Gon,” Kurapika says, “Are you here for a change of clothes as well?”

Gon nods, “I grew a bit more since last time so I need a larger size. Are you here to get the human new clothes too?” Peering over Leorio’s head, he meets Killua’s eyes, “Do you feel better today? Did you make friends with Kurapika and Leorio already?”

Leorio raises a brow, “You’ve met before?”

“Yeah! We met yesterday when he stopped in front of my tree. He didn’t know where he was, so I told him. But then I think the other spirits scared him because he ran away.”

Killua bristles defensively, “I wasn’t _scared_. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Kurapika makes a soft sound, one that sounds close enough to amusement for Killua to whirl on him with a glare, “Surprised enough to run away, Killua?” His voice is just as smooth and professional as before, even though his words aren’t. “That sounds like something Clem would say, don’t you think Leorio?”

The horned man snorts and shakes his head, “She would sit here and argue about it too.”

Killua scowls. “Where is all this new clothes anyway?”

Gon points to a tall wardrobe looming in the corner of the room. “They’re all in there.”

“It doesn’t look like it can hold a lot,” he says sceptically, moving closer to it and placing a hand on the knob to open it. A thought strikes him, “This isn’t going to kill me or eat me if I open it, will it?”

“No.” The three of them say in unison.

Killua exhales. He opens the wardrobe and stares at it blankly for a moment before gently shutting the doors. He waits a second and then opens it again. Nothing has changed. “This is-”

“It’s larger on the inside,” Kurapika tells him helpfully, looking far too amused at his bewilderment, “Just tap the number of the inside of the door for what size of clothes you need.”

How the hell is this possible, Killua wonders as he hazily follows the instructions, what kind of weird world has stuff like this? The Spirit World clearly does, even though he’s sure that all these oddities are because of magic and not technology.

He gathers his change of clothes with minimum struggle, a loose pair of black pants and a plain white robe looking shirt, like what Gon and Leorio wear but in different colors. He’s only paying half-mind to the spirit’s conversation near him, at least until he hears “-in the Human World?”

He perks up, unabashedly moving closer, holding the bundle of clothing in his arms.

“Well, Gon,” Kurapika says, “We don’t know much about it besides what some transient spirits tell us, or what we know from the humans that come over.”

“Now that you mention it,” Leorio comments, finishing up his task, “Didn’t Clem give us a lot of information about humans when she came through? Can’t we just use that information to organize research teams about the Human World?”

Kurapika shakes his head, “Clem came through a very long time ago. She’s young for a spirit but all the information she gave us then is outdated now, especially with the time difference.”

“Time difference?” Three heads turn to look at him.

“Time flows differently in the spirit world,” Gon begins slowly, “Didn’t you know?”

A chill creeps from inside him, like ice has spread it’s frost across his heart, freezing the blood in his veins with icicles of dread. “Just,” he manages to say, licking his lips, forcing his hands to remain still around the bundle of clothes, “How much of a time difference are we talking about here?”

Leorio shares a look with Kurapika, an unspoken conversation transpired before he looks back to Killua. This time, his eyes are full of pity. “It depends on how long you’ve been in here, kid.”

“This is my second full day,” Killua quickly says, nerves building up and licking the inside of stomach. “I got here yesterday night, before the gong started ringing.” Without stopping, desperate for an answer, dreading the answer, he adds, “Just how much time has passed in the human world since I’ve gotten here?”

Gon tilts his head in thought, “Hmm… it’s been two days, so that means... “ He taps his fingers with another, counting under his breath. Kurapika beats him to the punch.

“You’ve been gone from the human world for almost two weeks? With a few days to spare.”

Two weeks? _Two weeks._

“Oh.” he says, voice faint. Then, because it doesn’t feel enough to simply say it once, Killua says it again.

“ _Oh._ ”

He’s been one for almost two weeks, has left his world for that long already and hasn’t even known it until now. _Aluka,_ his heart howls, _you’ve left Alluka alone for so long._

A burning pain takes hold of him. It blooms in his heart and spreads through his veins.

“I need to get back home. I don’t care if it kills me, if it’s impossible. _I_ _have to.”_ Desperation hangs from his every word, it seeps from his pores until it is like the weight of the world has settled upon his spine, pressing down on him and causing a pain that not even his family’s torture training could cause inside him. His sister, his poor little sister- alone for all this time, wondering what could have become of him after promising to come back soon and not returning again.

 _I’m sorry Alluka,_ he thinks, releasing the clothes to clutch at his hair, _I’m sorry I lied to you again._

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, reaching a hand but stopping a few inches short. “I don’t know how to help you, but I know Bisky will help you however she can. She and Kurapika are super smart-” Leorio makes an offended sound, “-if anyone can figure out a way to send you home it’s them.”

“My sister has been waiting for me and I’ve left her waiting this whole time.”

“Your deal with Bisky has made it so that all of her efforts are place towards returning you back home.” Kurapika says, “Killua, I can say that while I don’t personally know you well enough to make a promise as a friend, that as an honor-bound spirit of the Kurta tribe, I will do my best to see you home.”

“Your name is Killua, huh?” Leorio mutters to himself, “Well, if everyone else is doing it, why not? I’ll help you out however I can too. I still remember how hard it was for Clem to adjust here, and how much she missed everyone she left behind. I’ll feel like an ass if I just sit back and let someone suffer like that.”

This is something Killua does not understand.

This kindness, this concern that Gon has for him, someone he hasn’t known for very long- for a self-admitted assassin, a killer with more blood on his hands than anything else. This is something Killua cannot fathom, how this spirit boy and his spirit friends look at him with more concern than judgement, how they give him space offer their help for a cause they don’t understand but can respect.

It makes a kernel of something burrow in his chest, something warm and soft- something that feels like the opposite of the ice that has settled inside him since he found himself in this world, since his Mother ordered him to kill his sister, since he first learned the world was a cruel place to exist in.

He wonders what will happen if he lets it sprout.

“Thank you,” he says instead, exhausted at his surge of emotions, “Thank you so much.”

  


**ix.**

That night, Killua dreams of the day he first met Nanika.

She had been telling him about a butterfly she had seen, gushing about how close it came to touching her. The warmth of the sun settled against their skin, the gardens around them illuminated by the bright rays. It had been before any of the others discovered that there were two beings living inside Alluka’s skin, that what was bound to her was spirit, one that granted wishes- at a price.

He dreams of how he handed her the flower she had asked him for, how he had woven a crown for her to wear at her request, how he had held her hand when she asked. He dreams of how Alluka paused midword, mid-sentence, and how her face slackened, smile wiped away until her expression was entirely blank.

He dreams of how her eyes were consumed by her expanding pupils, encroaching darkness swallowing up the blue of her iris, spreading like the shadows of the night after the sun has fallen, entrapping even the white of her sclera in inky black.

He dreams of how he had dropped to his knees in concern, holding Alluka’s face in his hands and calling her name in fear. He dreams of how it wasn’t Alluka but something else that answered him, wearing his sister’s face and asking him if he wanted to make a wish. He dreams of biting back tears and wishing that Alluka would be okay, voicing this aloud for the spirit to grant.

Here the dream changes. It shifts until it’s not just a memory of Alluka’s face worn by a spirit he had no name for- instead Alluka, head ducked and face hidden from view, headband nowhere to be seen, beads tangled in her dark and messy hair.

In this dream, he’s back in the bathhouse, looking at his sister through a tear in the sky. The tear ripples like its water instead of sky, wavering like it doesn’t know how to hold its shape. It reminds Killua of a puddle after it has rained. He thinks he can see the regular sky through the image of Alluka, like its not even there to begin with.

He reaches out to her, desperation weighing heavy in his chest, apologies brimming in his mouth like he’s ready to choke on them. The words don’t escape him though, nor do his fingers reach the heavens. Still, she seems to hear his unspoken calls, seems to feel the brush of his hand, because she raises her head, eyes locking right on him through the shimmering of the tear in the sky.

The star splattered sky seems dim in comparison to seeing Alluka again, even though it’s only been two days since the last time he lay eyes on her. For some reason, his heart aches as if it’s been longer. Like the press of time has been too much for it to take and all it can do is throb in longing, twinge in pain at having been so far from his sister all this time.

Alluka’s face brightens, red rimmed eyes sparkling with joy at seeing him. She speaks but the sound doesn’t reach him. Her lips move but he doesn’t hear a thing, though he’s well-versed enough in lip reading to get the gist of it. “I missed you, Nii-san. I missed you so much.”

The words make his heart clench painfully in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he cries out soundlessly, “I’m so sorry.”

Then it’s no longer Alluka that’s facing him, but Nanika.

 _‘Oh,’_ Nanika says, Alluka’s voice layered with another, a buzzing undercurrent in it that reminds Killua too much of the hum of energy in the Spirit World air for it to be a coincidence. Nanika tilts their head to the side, lips curling up in a smile, eyes wide and gleeful. _‘There you are, Killua...’_

 _‘_ **_Found you._ ** _’_

  


**x.**

“Killua, come to my office,” a folded bill of money says to him, shaped like a human silhouette, with Bisky’s voice coming out of its mouthless form. “I need your help with something.”

He’s in the middle of talking to Gon, who is determined to show him the ‘fun’ spots inside the bathhouse. He doesn’t seem daunted by the fact the Killua is in a somber mood after dreaming of Alluka last night, even when it leaves him as the only one talking. Or chattering more like it.

“Oh,” Gon says, wilting a bit at having to give up time with him. It makes Killua feel guilty at having no energy to indulge him, when the boy is clearly doing his best to cheer him up without asking what’s wrong besides all the _other_ issues he has, “It looks like you’re gonna be busy.”

Killua scrunches up his nose. The thought of having to do what someone tells him to sits oddly with him. He was raised to be the leader of his family, to take the mantle of power and wear it no matter its weight. So the fact that he’s nothing more than servant here, than a helper to a witch, grates more than it should.

Killua doesn’t wear servitude well.

But, he’s sure that his mother would be outraged and imagining the look on her face is enough motivation for him to sigh and start walking inside. He takes a moment to offer a, “Wanna walk with me?” To Gon, who perks up at a speed that nearly gives Killua whiplash, nodding eagerly and grabbing him by the hand to drag him to the nearest lift.

“Even though you’re a human, you’re the only here that’s close to my age! Physically too!”

Killua frowns, “Isn’t Bisky your age?”

Gon blinks, “No. She’s older than this town actually, she just likes looking a lot younger than she actually is. It’s some kind of magic, I think. I’m not sure.”

That sounds like blackmail worthy information, Killua thinks with a sly smile. He loves something to hand over Bisky’s head. It makes him feel better about the deal they have. He changes the subject before Gon can ask about his sudden mood shift. There’s really no good way to explain the joy of blackmail.

“What do you do here anyway?”

“Me? I’m one of the groundskeepers, I take care of the gardens and animals and stuff.”

“What do the other guys do?”

“Well, Kurapika is he second in charge here, so he’s kinda in charge of everything whenever Bisky goes off on a trip or expedition. And Leorio works in the infirmary… sort of. He’s technically just a student under him, but the guy doesn’t like showing up.”

Killua looks at Gon in disbelief, “There are students in the Spirit World?”

“Yeah! There are schools and libraries and castles and casinos and bathhouses, or bathhouses with casinos in them… like this one.” The lift dings as it arrives at the top floor and Killua gets off it, Gon trailing behind and walking him to the office door which is currently firmly shut. He smiles and waits until Killua had to door slightly cracked before waving and turning around, walking over to wait for the lift to come back up, “I’ll see you later, Killua!”

He waves back and enters the office, looking at the desk where Bisky sits, reading glasses on and looking over the massive pile of paperwork Clem brought her yesterday. She doesn't acknowledge him until he stands right in front of her, blinking at him and pointing off to the side of the desk. There are a lot of sacks, as large as his head, forming a small mountain in the corner.

“Sort through those,” she says and makes a click with her tongue, calling over that same jeweled golem from last time. She points at the sacks and at Killua, “Help him and make sure he doesn't slack off.”

Killua scowls, “I wasn't going to slack off.”

“You never know with you humans,” is all she says, pressing a stamp against one of the papers. He's fuming, ready to bring up her real age and her need to look like a kid when the door slams back open, making him whirl around and shift defensive position.

“ _Boss_!” Clementine wails, entering the room and making sure it's shut behind her with a feverish efficiency. Hefted over one of her shoulders like he's nothing more than a sack of potatoes, Gon dangles, limbs limply hanging over Clem's like limp noodles. He notices Killua sitting cross legged on the ground and waves, “I need you to hide me!”

Bisky doesn't raise her head, “And why would I do that? Although, a better question may be why you have my groundskeeper over your shoulder?”

Killua is wondering the same thing, although Gon looks resigned to his fate of being nothing more than living luggage. He wants to investigate, but the small golem taps on his knee with its fingerless nubs and gestures at one of the first sacks nearby, miming it being opened until Killua repeats the action. The creature nods in approval and crawls behind Bisky’s desk for a moment, returning with more sacks, these with the names of gems neatly stitched on the side.

“ _Please_ Boss!” Clem begs, taking a moment to answer the second question, “Also, I ran into him in the hall, so I brought him along with me.” Killua raises a brow at Gon, who silently shrugs and looks embarrassed at being so easily snatched up. Gon gestures at the golem and the sacks inquisitively, to which Killua makes a show of separating the jewels and putting them in their corresponding sack. Gon’s mouth rounds in an ‘o’ and he nods in understanding.

The next stamp Bisky presses against paper slams heavily, a forceful sound, “ _Clementine,_ I'm waiting for answer. _Why_ in the world do you need me to hide you!?”

“Hisoka broke through the wards again!” Clem cries, eyes whipping around desperately. From her place behind her desk, Bisky’s fingers twitch violently around her stamp. “He’s on his way up here!”

Killua glances at Gon again, hands sorting absentmindedly. ‘ _Hisoka?’_ he mouths, seeing understanding cross Gon’s face. Killua cannot stand not knowing the most he can about a situation, and in the situation he’s in- trapped in another world, working so that a witch helps him find his way home- the lack of knowledge grates more than it would otherwise. If knowing about this stranger helps further his goals of getting back home, than Killua is willing to ask questions even if the circumstances suggest he do otherwise. Like now. Clem looks like she’s ready to jump out the window to avoid seeing ‘Hisoka’ and Bisky looks like this isn’t the first time this has happened.

‘ _Hisoka is bad news. He’s dangerous,’_ the boy replies soundlessly, shaking his head before adding, _‘Murdery.’_ And that does explain a lot.

Killua is quite murdery himself, but a lot of that is because of the missions he was sent on. He doesn’t particularly want to spend his whole life killing others, not when he’d much rather spend that time exploring the word with Alluka and making the friends he always promised her they’d find together.

“Damn it,” Bisky mutters, “I thought you were getting better at keeping him out?”

“I don’t know how he keeps on doing it, I swear I don’t use the same wards after he breaks them.”

Bisky waves a hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah I know you don’t. Hisoka is a sneaky bastard. It’s impossible to keep him out forever, I had just figured we had more time until he snuck back in.”

“Yes, yes,” Clem agrees impatiently, “Now can we go back to where you pity me and let me hide somewhere before he shows up here?”

“That’s not the way to ask for a favor.”

“ _Boss, do you want to watch me die!?”_

“Oh please, it’s not like he would kill you.”

Clem lets out a frustrated huff, “ _Boss-”_ There is a knock at the office door. Clem’s eyes go wide.

Her head jerks around the room and zeroes in on the curtain separating the office from the room behind it. Bisky sees it the same moment Killua does, because she starts, shouting, an outraged, **“** Don’t you _dare-_ ” but Clem has already lunged, Gon going cross-eyed at the speed in which she hurls them both behind the curtain. The fabric sways violently, settling after a moment, covering most but not all of the room beyond.

The fabric didn’t settle into place properly, so he can clearly spot a wide-eyed Clem with her hand over Gon’s mouth, keeping him quiet by force. Killua snorts loudly, meeting Gon’s tired gaze.

This is hilarious.

There is a moment of silence before another knock sounds through the office.

Bisky looks like she would rather do anything else than answer that door, like anywhere in the world is preferable than being inside her office right now.  Killua tilts his head at Bisky, pausing in his sorting to comment innocently, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

The golem prods him again, this time with a bit more force. It doesn’t have many facial features to work with, but its small ruby eyes are narrowed in what has to be frustration.

There is a knock at the closed office door, and Bisky sighs, waving a hand to fully shut the curtain with a small burst of magic before calling out a tired, “Come in.”

For a moment there’s no reply, but then the door opens with a soft click and a figure enters the room. Killua stares at the bright colors the figure wears, as if somehow they will stop being so pigmented if he does.

The first thing that catches his attention is the magenta coat, frilled at the sleeves and ending just below the waist of his purple pants. Under the coat, there is a plain white button up shirt, closed at the neck by a black ribbon, which upon closer inspection, is decorated by small red hearts. The hair that is visible under the black top hat the man wears is gelled back, color a deep red, like the ruby Killua holds in his hand.

Killua wonders if his face would look at odd as his clothing if it wasn't hidden by a white porcelain mask. The slits where the eyes should be curve upward as if in mirt, and there's a red slash across the mouth area, angled at the corners like a wide smile. The small raindrop under one of the eyes is painted in blue with a small yellow star under the other.

The masked man comes closer, bending at the waist with a flourish, one hand over his heart and the other holding the rim of his top hat in place. He holds himself like a predator does, even with his head bowed to Bisky, in her territory, at her mercy. “Oh, Bisky,” he purrs and straightens, “How lovely to see you again.”

“I’d say the same, but every time you come around someone ends up dying.” Killua quietly absorbs the information. Spirits can die? This man has killed other spirits?

“Now, saying _every time_ is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“You’re bad for business, Hisoka.” Bisky says, voice flat, “There’s a reason the building is warded against you specifically. Although how you got in, I have no idea. You always seem to find a way.”

The man gasps dramatically behind his mask, “You try to keep me out on _purpose!?_ You wound me. And here I travelled as soon as I could to bring you this information.”

She rolls her eyes, sighing heavily, “Why are you here, Hisoka? What’s so important that you had to break through my wards… _again_.”

“Well, now that you hurt my feelings I don’t want to tell you any more.”

“In that case, I won’t tell you when the patron of Meteor City is coming to York New. It’s alright though, I’m sure knowing where the elusive leader of the Phantom Troupe is something a lot of other spirits are willing to pay for. Such a pity that you’re not interested in an exchange of information, don’t you think?”

The man’s fingers twitch around his cane. “Now, Bisky there’s no reason for something so drastic. Have I told you how lovely you look today?”

“ _Hisoka,_ _the information?_ ” Bisky grits out, raising a hand to her forehead, as if dealing with the man before her has given her a migraine. She seems to have entirely forgotten that Killua is still in the room with them and Hisoka seems to flourish with the extra eyes on him… unless he’s _always_ this dramatic.

Which in hindsight, makes a lot more sense.

“Rumors are that you’ve found yourself another pet human,” Hisoka hums, and through the slits on his mask, poisonous yellow eyes glance over at Killua, meeting his gaze, “Although, how you seem to find them, I have no idea. Other rumors say that the forest hasn’t been silent since he’s come through, that it’s waiting for something else to enter this world.”

“And what do you say?”

“Well, I took a little detour by the forest before stopping by here,” Hisoka drawls, tapping a long nailed finger on his cane, “And I found something _quite_ interesting. Those rumors _might_ have been true, if not for one thing-” Killua can’t see his face behind the mask, but somehow, he knows that Hisoka is grinning, sharp and dangerous, delighted at the news he brings, “-the forest isn’t waiting anymore.”

Bisky goes unnaturally still. The air itself freezes with the implications, and even Killua who hasn’t been in this world long enough to know just what is so important about the forest besides it kidnapping him, pauses in his sorting and holds his breath at the words.

“There’s no way,” Bisky says, hands slowly falling away from her face. “That’s never happened before.”

“Oh, but would I lie to you, Bisky?”

“Without hesitation.”

“What if I told you I had proof?”

She narrows her eyes, “Then I would tell you to get on with it and show me before I lose my patience with you.” The temperature drops, the air growing cold enough that Killua sees his breath as it escapes his lips. The lamps shake, the trinkets on the bookshelves tremble.

Hisoka clicks his tongue, toying with the rim of his top hat. “Oh, all right, all right. You’re no fun, Bisky.”

By Killua’s side, the little golem tilts its head and nudges him with one of its diamond nubs. It points at the box in front of them and back to him, until he sighs, picking up another jewel, placing it in its corresponding box. He keeps his eyes on the scene in front of him, focused on the events transpiring.

“Come on in,”  Hisoka calls, voice projecting out to the hall beyond the shut door. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Bisky here can help you with your dilemma,” again, his eyes flick over to Killua, but this time the look in his gaze is like a satisfied predator, pleased and deadly, all at once, “She’s quite talented at finding lost things.”

“Um, if you insist, Mr. Hisoka,” a voice shyly replies and Killua drops what’s in his hands, already on his feet, staring at the wood of the door with his heart in his throat and his stomach in his shoes.

Then, the door creaks open and Alluka steps inside.


	3. found

**xi.**

Nanika leads her into the woods, into the dark forest, and it’s all Alluka can do to follow those instructions- tearing her eyes away from the cresting trees overhead, stopping herself from dragging her fingers along the tree trunks, forcing her legs to continue on even as they nearly come to a halt when she sees something new. She’s outside. She’s really _outside._

It’s been years. It’s been so long that she is quickly overwhelmed by the world that has made itself known to her from beyond the window. It’s been so long that now that she’s no longer inside the mansion, inside the metal wall of her bedroom, Alluka doesn’t know what to do but do as Nanika tells her to.

And Nanika tells her to go further into the dark, to push on beyond the trees that buzz with the same energy that Nanika is made of, past the line of statues standing sentry deep inside the sea of trees; Nanika tells her that this is the only way to see Nii-san again, that this is where he fled after leaving the mansion that day, so Alluka clenches her jaw and presses forward.

She has no idea where she is. She hasn’t wandered this far out even when she was a small child allowed to explore, although, even if she had, it’s not like she would remember it. Alluka shivers. She didn’t know that the night could be so cold; she should have expected it though, it’s not like the world is the same as a temperature controlled room underground.

Branches snap under her boots, fallen leaves crunch, the night air is fresh in her lungs. The bushes near her rustle with small animals and she wants to crouch down in case she can catch a glimpse of what it may be. She’s already seen odd little bugs on the tree trunks buzzing like Nanika does when it’s excited, spiders spinning their silvery webs, and lights glowing from flying insect’s butts.

Nanika works like a compass- pointing the way to where Nii-san last was. _little more,_ the spirit breathes, tugging in single direction so insistently that it almost hurts, _a little more_.

Then, they hear it. In the distance, from where the mansion lies, there is a loud, long howl- and a high, ringing whistle that carries through the air. The howling stops but the whistle continues, rising and dropping, like a signal or an order sent through sound.

Alluka’s heart stops and she stumbles, tripping over an exposed root of one of the massive trees. Something cuts into her palm, sending a flash of hot pain through her body and bringing tears to her eyes. She cradles the hand close to her, fingers curled and careful to not let blood drip on her clothes.

“Nanika?” She whispers, terrified of speaking louder, in case the creature howling- Mike, she thinks Nii-san called him- hears her voice and follows her. “I think they’re looking for us.”

 _yes_ , Nanika says and urges her forward with more urgency, _hurry, hurry. close now, almost there._

Alluka scurries to her feet, discarding any interest in examining her surrounding and running, right towards where Nanika wants her to go. She pushes past the trees, leaves tangling in her hair, eyes blurred from the tears she wants to shed. She bursts from the forest and into a clearing. There’s nothing there, just an old tree, crooked and drooping, its roots bulging messily from the earth.

The howls start again, louder now. Closer.

She whimpers, hand throbbing and heart racing.

They’re going to find her aren’t they? They’re going to find her and throw her back in that cell that they pretend is her room but is nothing more than a prison; she’ll never set foot outside again; she’ll die in there, granting wishes for people that don’t love her and would prefer see her dead.

Her breathing speeds up, the world narrowing down on the dread of being back on the other side of those windows- of seeing only metal walls every day of her life.

 _alluka,_ Nanika says, calm and focused in a way Alluka is most definitely not, _give it blood._

 _“_ What?” Alluka asks, startled out of her panic, glancing at the withering tree. She moves closer, hovering her hand over the roots. “Is this what you mean?”

 _yes,_ the spirit rasps and inside her, Nanika’s buzzing grows louder. It grows stronger, increasing in pitch until it matches that of the clearing they’re in, until all that Alluka can hear is the hum of energy drowning out the deafening snarling, until all she can hear is Nanika’s two words. _now_ **_bleed._ **

Alluka unfurls her fingers and blood drips from her hand, landing on the twisted tree roots. Splatters of red land on the grey wood. The tree pulses with energy that knocks her legs out from under her, sending her to the ground, nestled amidst all the roots. The world flashes a blinding, vivid green- and spins, round and round and round and her stomach churns and Nanika sings and Alluka-

Alluka _falls._

  


**xii.**

Alluka steps into Bisky’s office and all the breath leaves his lungs. She steps through the door and into the office of the witch he has signed his life away to, and all Killua can do is stare, ignoring the golem’s poking at his leg. “Alluka?” He breathes, taking a single, shocked step forward, “Is that you?”

He already knows it is. There’s no way he wouldn’t be able to tell his sister apart from anyone masquerading as her, he can feel it in the air when Nanika is close. He can tell that it’s his sister from the way the carved faces on her hair beads fall in her eyes, from the way she nervously scuffs the toe of her boot against the carpet, from the way she raises her head and clear blue meets his gaze.

“Nii-san?” Her eyes widen, a blinding smile filling her face and she throws herself, arms wrapping tightly around him. The weight of her is familiar, the warmth of her in his arms, of his sister with him again, makes him want to weep. He doesn’t of course, but the fact that Alluka is there is something he would have never expected. He thought that it would take so much longer to see her again, worlds apart, powerless to reach her in the cage she was trapped in.

He freezes, tenses up with Alluka still in his arms. He draws back enough to scan her over, from head to toe, making sure she’s in one piece and somehow hasn’t lost part of herself on the trip here from the Human World. She’s dirty, hair a bit tangled with a few stray leaves nestled in it. Her clothes have dirt and faint splatters that he recognizes as blood. His heart stops.

“You’re hurt!?”

She blinks up at him with those wide eyes, taking a moment to register what he’s saying before raising a hand. There is a bloodied handkerchief wrapped around it, not heavily bled through, but enough to show that underneath it there’s a pretty nasty gash. “I fell and cut my hand,” she tells him, with a reassuring smile, “But it’s okay, I needed the blood to enter the Spirit World anyway.”

“Alluka,” he begins, carefully holding her shoulders with his hands as if she’s made of the finest china, like she will crumble if he holds her too tightly. He is calmer now that he knows she isn’t seriously injured, especially when she was travelling in the company of Hisoka but still there is dread swirling inside him. But still foreboding smothers him as he asks, “ _How did you get here!?”_

She hesitates, smile dimming. Then, she opens her mouth and tells him everything.

  


**xiii.**

Alluka opens her eyes after what feels like a moment after she closes them, like she has paused in the moment between one blink and the other, in the moment of breathlessness after exhaling but before drawing in another mouthful of oxygen. The world around her thrums with pure energy. There is an ache in her chest, in the crook where Nanika hides when everything gets too tiring.

It doesn’t feel like there is anything there anymore, the mere thought sends chills down Alluka’s spine. “Nanika?” She calls out softly, still scared that someone will overhear her and drag her back to the mansion, where she will be sealed away, an object instead of a child, never to step foot outside again.

It takes a moment for a reply to come, but when it does, Alluka’s shoulders sink in relief, she releases a breath she doesn’t remember holding. Not so alone, after all.

 _‘alluka,’_ Nanika calls to her, voice ringing like the chiming of bells, bouncing rom the ancient trees, filling the clearing with the sound of it. _‘alluka, this is home! this is my home, alluka,’_ Nanika hums in joy, words clearer, more coherent, than Alluka has ever heard hem. Usually Nanika can only get that level of fluency when Alluka surrenders over their body, when Nanika is ready to grant a wish or ask for the payment for the favors given. Is it because they’re in no longer in the Human World?

“This is your home?” She asks, heart rate settling back into something less likely to pound out of her chest. Solitude fading away into giddiness, “We’re actually in the Spirit World!?”

Nanika hums like the aftersound of a harp, like the sweet pull of a bow on an instrument, like music that moves both the body and soul. ‘ _yes, alluka, we made it. this is home. this is freedom. nanika will keep alluka safe and alive, no matter what. killua is here, waiting. we can find him, nanika is stronger here.’_

“Nii-san is here?” Alluka feels tears well up in her eyes, feels the ache of Nii-san’s absence throb for a moment at the knowledge that he is so close and yet so far. She tries to calm down by reminding herself that at least now she is in the right world to begin her search. But she knows that even if she finds him, there is no way back to the land they have left behind.

Nanika warned her, after all, the cost of passing over to a world like this one, the cost of being human and sharing a body with a spirit- at how entering this world would change what they were down to their very core. And Alluka can feel his difference in herself already- not quite a spirit, but not quite human either.  

A hybrid of the two.

But she’s here anyway, despite the risks, despite the dangers. Alluka is here because she cannot live knowing that her family hopes her dead; cannot live knowing her precious Nii-san has stumbled in a world he cannot return from; cannot live where sheets of thick metal separate her from the night sky, from the grass under her feet, from the freedom she’s always wanted but never had.

Is this freedom? She wonders, looking at the long string of black connecting her to Nanika, who creeps out from under the bent tree like a misplaced shadow. They are bound together, even now, although by choice and will this time, not mere coincidence and accident.

She can see the fragments of the heavens from her place under the tree, slivers of beautiful sky visible between the draping leaves and branches of the ancient tree. Nanika’s pale white face is tilted back to stare at the moons crossing the inky sky, the sky splattered with things Alluka has heard about but cannot remember ever seeing in person.

Stars.

They’re so beautiful, she thinks, feeling the sight sink into her bones, melt through her skin and flesh and curl up, warm and luminous where she will never forget it. This first glance at what it means to have true freedom will not be forgotten.

She hiccups, eyes watering until they overflow. She wraps her arms around her knees, head tilted back to look at such a wonderful sight, at such an amazing stretch of the heavens, sobbing as the lights dance in the sky. Weeping as she realizes that she is finally out of her cage, of her prison. That for the first time in her life she can unabashedly look up a the stars, at the millions and billions of precious, shining lights.

She cries for a bit longer, Nanika having dropped down to wrap around her shoulders like a shawl, murmuring in that wind chime voice, ‘ _it’s okay, nanika knows it feels like too much.’_

Eventually though, the two of them acknowledge that it is time to leave.

They have a reason for coming here, beyond simply escaping the mansion, and that is to find Nii-san no matter what. She stumbles out of the willow roots, pushing past the brambles carefully, and savoring the tingle of the air on her tongue. The freshness of the air is dizzying, her head spins and the earth rocks under her feet.

Alluka follows Nanika’s directions again, who doesn’t slither back inside their body but remains curled around her, looking up at the scraps of sky visible through the dense tree canopies and using that to navigate their way out of the forest. The pull of earlier that guided the two of them to that odd tree is harder to maintain in this world, Nanika tell explains patiently when Alluka asks.

This world is richer in energy, far too dense to simply trace someone by the trails of energy they leave behind. It makes sense, Aluka thinks, and continues marching onward and forward; until she passes statues that are similar but not identical to the ones she passed to get there. She keeps on going even when her she’s nervous about the music she can hear, about the heavy crunch of her boots on the fallen leaves.  

She hasn’t walked very long in the forest beyond the circle of statues before she hears a different sound. One that isn’t her or Nanika or the buzz of energy in the air, nor is it the distant music growing louder as she keeps on walking. The sound she hears is low, like someone humming to themselves, and it comes from somewhere around her, although in what exact location, Alluka cannot quite tell.

The voice seems to creep in from all around her, like it is everyone and nowhere, all at once.

Through their connection, Nanika feels on edge. ‘ _dangerous, Alluka be careful. we are being watched,’_ Nanika murmurs, wary but not enough to attack at random. Not that Alluka has ever seen Nanika fight, has only seen the aftermath of the power behind the wishes Nanika grants, has only watched as people bleed and die when they don’t pay the toll for what they ask.

“What little creature have I found?” The voice asks, smooth and playful, even with the threatening buzz of Nanika around her, filling the air with a sound akin to the rattling of a snake’s tail. “Doesn’t seem quite like human, but also not spirit. An abomination?”

Nanika hisses at those words, Alluka flinching at the memories they bring to mind. Hadn’t Mother called her that behind her back before? Hadn’t that been the reason Mother wanted her dead, the reason she didn’t fall under her family’s protection, the reason Illumi-nii looked at her like less than an insect squirming on the dirty ground. _Abomination_. The word makes her sick to her stomach.

A chuckle come from behind her, and Alluka spins to see a tall figure standing in front of her. Their face is obscured by a white mask, sturdy cane being twirled around a long, sharp nailed finger. They wear a black hat, tall and wider at the bottom- but it’s what she sees underneath it that gives her pause.

Red hair. It’s not the soft ginger of some of the Butlers she’s sometimes seen, but instead, a true vibrant red. It looks like blood, but without the metallic smell to it, vibrant and deep, striking in its hue. Alluka hasn’t ever seen anyone with such bright hair. It reminds her of the scarlet flowers she’s seen in dreams, of the red rivers that Nanika has shown her exist in the world of the under the two moons.  

“Oh wow,” she breathes, wide-eyed and awed by the color of it. “You have really, _really_ pretty hair.”

“Such an odd little thing,” the spirits says in surprise, although sounding delighted at the compliment, “But one with _wonderful_ taste. I must say, I quite like you already.”

Nanika hovers over her shoulder, staring unblinkingly at the other spirit. ‘ _who are you? what are  you doing here?’_ The  masked spirit tilts their head to the side to peer closer at the dark blob that is Nanika, pale face meeting the curious gaze unwaveringly.

“I am a performer, a man with many talents,” the spirit drops into a lazy bow, eyes unmoving from Nanika’s face, Alluka can see the bright yellow of them through the mask eye holes, “I am Hisoka, a _humble_ travelling magician.”

“I’m Alluka and this is Nanika,” she says, pointing at the black spirit watching with a warning in its eyes, “We’re looking for someone. Do you think you could help us?”

“The question,” Hisoka replies, “Is what you’re willing to give up for my aid, little _Alluka._ ”

Nanika rears up on her shoulder, coiled and ready to spring like a snake, ‘ _do not presume to ask for a favor from us, magician, your deals do not apply to us. we do not need your help to continue on.’_

 _“_ Ooh,” Hisoka purrs in delight, “Tiny Nanika has claws.” He laughs, “I suppose I could lend you a hand, I’ve been awfully bored as of late. Tell me then, who is it you’re searching for?”

Alluka swallows down her hesitation and raises her chin, “Have you seen a boy that’s only a little bit older than me? He has white hair and is about this tall,” she gestures with a hand, “We have the same blue eyes. He’s my older brother and I’m looking for him. He came into the Spirit World by accident, but I don’t know exactly were.”

Hisoka hums, tapping the painted lips of his mask with a long nail. “A lost little human? Now, that sounds familiar. I think I know just the place to go.”

Alluka beams, “Thank you.”

He sighs sadly, “Alas, it is far too early to thank _me_. I have a small problem,” he ignores Nanika’s mutter of, ‘ _of course he does,’_ and continues, “My friend and I had an argument and I can’t enter the bathhouse where she’s staying, I wanted to apologize to her, you see. And the owner of the bathhouse is who I was going to take you to see, as well.  But since I can’t enter through the wards…”

Alluka gasps, “I can help you get through! Nanika can carry us both past the wards, so you can talk to your friend! I really need to find my brother too, so it’s not a problem!”

Hisoka ducks his head, a hand placed over his heart solemnly, “Oh, how I am unworthy of this kindness.”

“That’s not true! You’re helping me when you don’t have to. Thank you again, Mr. Hisoka!”

“No, no, Alluka,” Hisoka says, “thank _you_ for helping _me._ ”

.  
.  
.

He finds her not long after she leaves the world she knows- the world she’s never really known, the world she’s always _ached_ to know- behind her. He appears from the trees like a wraith, like something borne of night just to steal her away, to take her from this ocean of green and far, far away. He finds her, the lost girl searching for a boy she doesn’t know she will ever find again, and the deal they strike is simple.

She helps him, he guides her, and she finds what she’s seeking at last.  

  


**xiv.**

“And then, he brought me here,” she says, anxiously glancing at the magician and back at him, “I would have found you eventually, I think, but you were here. I don’t have to search anymore than this. You’re here,” she repeats as if saying them aloud to calm herself, to remind herself that this is not a dream.  

From her shoulder, rises up a living shadow, passing through his hands like nothing more than fog. A bone white face stares at him, dark mouth curling into a happy smile at seeing him. Nanika. The one that freed Alluka from the mansion in the way he had always hoped for but was never able to make real.

 _‘alluka made a wish,’_ Nanika tells him, ’ _to find killua, no matter what. so nanika made it come true,’_ after a brief pause, in which Killua gets the feeling the spirit is grimacing, adds a muttered, ‘ _hisoka helped.’_

Behind him, Killua feels the press of Hisoka’s eyes on him and Alluka like it is a physical weight. He knows Gon must be wondering what’s going on, while Clem is still too busy holding him hostage and hiding to care about much beyond making sure Hisoka doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know how to explain this properly to them without choking on the words. So he ignores them and focuses on the warmth of Alluka’s hand in his own.

Bisky clears her throat. “And who might this be?”

“This is my sister,” he says, refusing to let go of her for even a moment, “The one I was trying to get back to.” It still blows his mind that she’s right here with him. He finds himself terrified of the possibility of it all just being a fever dream, that Alluka isn’t really here at all and that he’ll wake, alone and distraught, in the dormitories he shares with Gon, Leorio,  and Kurapika.

Bisky raises a blonde brow. “Are you sure that's your sister?” She eyes Nanika hovering over Alluka’s shoulder skeptically, “That girl isn’t human, if she ever was.”

“What are you saying, Alluka is a human like me.“

He tells himself that the sinking feeling in his belly isn’t anything more than he breakfast he ate settling oddly. He pointedly does not think about the stricken look in Alluka’s eyes as he forces a smile, or how Nanika shrinks into a smaller blob. Killua tries his best to sound upbeat, “It’s just Alluka, nothing’s changed. Nanika is a bit stronger now, though, so maybe that could be confusing you. Alluka looks just the same to me.”

“Nii-san,” Alluka says softly, squeezing his hand tighter, “I-”

“Your sister isn’t human.” Bisky interrupts, “I don’t know if she was before, but I can tell you that the person next to you isn’t a human. The energy they give off makes that clear. You can feel it too can’t you? That humming, that prickling feeling on your skin. A human doesn’t do that.”

“You’re wrong!” He snaps, taking a defensive step back. “That’s just Nanika!”

“The reason she’s still alive is because of that spirit latched on to her. Without it, she would have just eventually faded away or would have been consumed by a hungry spirit- like you would have been in danger of if you hadn’t struck a deal with me.” Bisky says, unwavering even at the murderous glare he shoots at her.

“Nii-san,” Alluka says again, ducking her head and bringing a hand to rub at her eyes, “It’s true. Ms. Bisky isn’t lying to you.”

It’s like the world freezes. Like all that exists at that moment is the echo of those words and the lead sinking into his belly, the realization that his sister has never lied to him, that she would _never_ lie to him- the realization that what Bisky is saying is the truth.

He pulls Alluka close to him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. He pretends that he isn’t drowning in his guilt, that understanding hasn’t shattered his hopes of returning to the Human World. The hesitant touch of Alluka’s hands on his back makes him feel like he’s nothing but the lowest of scum.

He hugs her, ignoring Bisky and Hisoka; ignoring Gon and Clem and the small golem; ignoring the burning in his eyes, and just breathes- ignoring how his heart aches and his stomach churns.

He is responsible for this. It’s because of him that Aluka has become something else, that she’s no longer able to leave this place. Because it is his fault that she’s in the Spirit World and it’s his fault that she had to search for him to begin with. Because he didn’t fulfil his promise sooner. Because he didn’t come back.

Because Killua always messes things up, always destroys opportunities the moment he touches them.

“I’m sorry,  Alluka,” he whispers into her hair. _For everything I’ve put you through_ , he doesn’t say.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she says, voice soft and loving, shaking with emotion, with the tears she wants to shed but is holding back for his sake. “Nanika warned me this would happen, and I came anyway. It’s not your fault I’m this way, it’s mine.”

“I shouldn’t have run,” he says, exhaustion and guilt pressing down on him from the inside, “I shouldn’t have made you have to choose something like this.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Bisky says, eyes pitying, but shrugging either way, “It’s not like you could have left anyway, so her coming here is the next best thing isn’t it?”

“I was supposed to _protect her_!”  

“And you didn’t, did you!? You should be glad that you even get to _see_ your sister again. Do you think other humans that fall through are as lucky? Do you think that they’re able to see their loved ones again as humans, or spirits, or anything in between? Be grateful for the fact that your sister is here with you, and not spending the rest of her life wondering where you went after leaving her behind.”

Killua flinches.

“I’ll renegotiate your contract,” Bisky says with a sigh, “Just don’t spend your life regretting something you can’t change.”

He looks at Alluka, holding his hand, peering at him with watery eyes. He looks at Nanika condensed in a small blob, watching him sadly. Killua takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Okay,” he says, he promises, he _swears._

 

**xv.**

_‘killua,’_ Nanika says, eyes as black as the spaces between the twinkling stars, ‘ _make a wish.’_ The room is full of soft music, the sound carrying from the bathhouse bustling with business just beyond the door, where Killua should be working but is instead sitting behind Alluka as she stares out the open window.

“I don’t have a wish to make,” He says, brushing Alluka's hair with the brush Gon gave her, with small flowers carved into the dark wood. The scent of food wafts in from outside.“You’re both here with me, so my wish has already come true.”

“Nii-san, don't say things like that so shamelessly!”

Killua grins, the only reason he bothers is because of Alluka's reactions.

It's been a while since Killua came through, and just about the same since Alluka followed him. They've fallen into a pattern, into a routine. It was hard at first to come to terms with what she had become, harder still to know that the fate that awaited him was the same if not more- fully becoming a spirit, like Clem had, like Alluka had failed to do entirely. But there's nothing to do but accept it, and Killua has had time to do just that. (He made a promise to at least try, and he’s not breaking two promises in a row.)

He places the beads in her hair and stands, wiping his hands on his shorts. He has something he's been waiting to do since he first saw it, although now, he has Alluka at his side.

“Come with me,” he says and smiles, “there’s something I want to show you.”

She doesn’t hesitate to take his hand.

.  
.  
.

That first night, before the ancient willow tree had spirited him away- Killua had looked up and watched the sky _burn_. It had been one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, followed closely by the stars that filled the night sky of the new world he had stumbled into.

He had ached at the sight of the setting sun, wishing his sister was there to see it. He had ached at the sight of the starry night, wishing Alluka was free to gaze upon it. Oh, how he had ached back then.

But now, here he is, Alluka next to him, side by side. His fingers are interlaced with hers, watching as the sky burns and fades into star-speckled darkness. The space between day and night is filled with the fading light. The sun sets. The colors bleed into the sky. The deep crimson spreads and mixes with dark blue, sunset painted the edges of the horizon in shifting shades.

The stars creep out, blooming like thousands of brilliant dandelions; they spread across the darkness of the universe. As the sun dies and the stars emerge, there is a moment, when the horizon is illuminated by the fallen sun, a fat line of light at the edge of the world.

( **_Twilight_ **.)

At that moment they are nothing more than just spirits born from mortal souls; no Killua or Alluka or Nanika, just spirits lingering between reality and dreams.

He: The boy who was lost, who was trapped, who was found.

Her: The girl who was trapped, who lost, and who found.

That is all they are, that’s all they needed to be.

Because in the end, aren’t they are just what hides in the twilight?

  



End file.
